Nightingale
by Tulip Proudfoot
Summary: Now continued in Second Chances Can Frodo help the Hobbiton doctor deal with the death of her patient?
1. Farming

"The Nightingale"  
  
Rating: R (sex, gruesome medical procedures)  
  
Author's Notes: For an introduction to my character, Iris Proudfoot, please see "Homecoming: Bitter and Sweet" and/or "The Swimming Hole." It's best if you read those first to get a better understanding of the Iris/Frodo dynamic. This particular story has nothing in common with the others save for the overlap in my Other Character (OC). However, this story assumes that Frodo and Iris have an established relationship. It was written at the request of several reviewers of "Homecoming" who wanted a different ending. It's continuation is titled "Second Chances."  
  
Warning: If you don't like non-canonical works involving other characters, please don't read this.  
  
Chapter Title: Farming Chapter Rating: G (It gets "heavier" in later chapters, I promise) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------  
  
September 15th S.R. 1420 had been a very warm left-over summers day in the Shire, with a continuation of the week's clear blue skies and dry daytime heat. The Hobbiton air was thick with the smell of dust and hay. It hadn't rained all week and all the Hobbiton building owners took advantage of the good weather by having a fresh layer of thatch installed on their roofs. Consequently, straw and extra bales of hay lined the streets and market square, and powdery dust floated in the still, hot air.  
  
Frodo Baggins wove his way through the marketplace and over to the Hobbiton Physician's Office. The two had become fast friends since Iris Proudfoot first relocated to Hobbiton from the South Farthing. Frodo had actually started courting the Doctor, must to Sam and Rose Gamgee's delight.  
  
Doctor Iris Proudfoot was standing outside her offices and turning the "Physician is IN" sign round about to read "Ring Bells in Case of Emergency." She didn't notice Frodo coming up behind her.  
  
"Good afternoon Miss Proudfoot," Frodo said as a few hobbits wandered past in the late golden afternoon sun..  
  
Iris turned and smiled, "Good afternoon Mister Baggins. What have you been up to today?"  
  
Frodo was wearing his customary white long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows, lightweight brown vest and matching breeches. He was hot and sweaty with his walk from Bag End down to Hobbiton in the heat. Surprisingly, his fair features appeared a bit sun-burnt, especially across the bridge of his nose, on his cheeks and the tops of his forearms.  
  
"Would you believe Sam let me help in the harvest today?" Frodo grinned and crossed his arms in a gesture of self-satisfaction. It was a well-known fact that Sam didn't trust Frodo with gardening or farm work since Frodo seemed to posses a "brown thumb" when it came to plants.  
  
"Well, this is rare indeed! Come in out of the sun and tell me about it," Iris said. They went into her office and out of the heat.  
  
"I have been helping Sam and Rose and old Talty Fairbain in the Bag End Gardens today," Frodo bragged. "We have been bringing in the onion and garlic harvest. It has been a bumper crop this year for the entire Shire, so Sam tells me. But I think the Bag End Gardens have been exceptional."  
  
"So that explains your smell," Iris laughed. "Don't misunderstand me. it's not bad. It's just not your typical aroma."  
  
"Thank you very much," Frodo bowed at the waist. "I did scrub my hands and wash my face, I swear. But I think it has gotten into my clothes. I do not understand how you can smell the onions and garlic on me right now though. What IS that smell in here?"  
  
"Oh, sorry," Iris looked up at the ceiling. There were flowers of every hue and herbs of all shapes and sizes tied in huge bundles hanging upside down from every available space in the rafters. "Tandy ran out of room at the Apothecary for drying his medicinal flowers. I'm letting him dry them here, and in my bedroom, and even in the patient's guest room. Looks as if everyone's been dragged into helping out in some way with the harvest this year." Tandy Bolger was Iris's cousin, and owned the Apothecary and Medicinal Gardens. "By the way, who is Talty Fairbain?"  
  
"I gather you have not met Mister Fairbain yet," Frodo said. "He is the Bag End master farmer. His family has always worked the Bag End Farms for the Bagginses since. well . Since I can't remember when. I know Talty's father worked for Bilbo. Now Talty works for me."  
  
"I thought Samwise was your gardener," Iris said.  
  
"He is," Frodo replied. "He is in charge of just about everything that has to do with Bag End itself. The house and house gardens, that is. But the landholdings I inherited from Bilbo are much more extensive than just Bag End. Mister Fairbain is in charge of the farmlands closest to Bag End. The Baggins family also owns farms out near Overhill and some land in the North Farthings. My Uncle Bilbo used to travel out to the sharecroppers once a quarter, but I usually send Sam out in my place now."  
  
"No wonder you rarely get of out Bag End," Iris smiled. "It must involve an incredible amount of work to oversee such large landholdings."  
  
"I actually love to go out into the fields; wander the little forgotten paths; see the crops growing," Frodo said. "I rarely get the chance to actually participate in the harvest though. Too much to do. But I got to help out today, and I am quite pleased with myself."  
  
Iris laughed. "You've the sunburn to prove that you rarely get out during daylight hours. Aren't you hot?"  
  
"Well, my mouth is dry as ashes and I am hungry too," Frodo said as he slipped his arm about her waist and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "If you have not had dinner yet, would you care to join me for a nice cold beer and a bite to eat at the Green Dragon? That is, if you do not object to the smell of onions."  
  
"As long as you don't object to me reeking of rose hips and lavender," she said. "I haven't had a chance to go to market today, so there's nothing in the larder. The Green Dragon sounds fine. Let me put up a sign on the door first."  
  
She quickly scribbled a notice "Physician at the Green Dragon in case of emergencies" and stuck it on the front door as they left her office. It was only a few steps down the road to the Green Dragon Inn.  
  
The Inn was darker and cooler than outside, much to Frodo's sun-burnt relief. There were already quite a few people inside the inn; some drinking, some eating, some talking. Frodo and Iris slipped into a side booth in the back of the communal dinning room after paying for a couple of half-pints of strong, cold ale, and ordering meat pies, a plate of cheese and bread for dinner.  
  
"I didn't think Sam let you do any gardening," Iris said as she took a sip of her ale. "From the look of your sunburn, you were actually out in the fields, though I can't quite imagine you side by side with Sam digging up onions."  
  
"Well, I was not allowed into the fields," Frodo confessed. "Sam and Talty did the digging and trimming. They also transplanted the seed plants into the two-year garden. Rose and I were assigned to work at the drying shed back in the pony pasture. We braided the bulbs into drying chains. Did you know Sam has a drying shed back there?"  
  
"No," Iris said as the waiter brought them their dinner. "I'm really quite ignorant about farming things. I didn't even know there was such a thing as a drying shed. What is it and when did you find time to build one?"  
  
"It is a special small barn Sam and Talty built back in June," Frodo said between bites. "It is situated in the middle of a clearing so that sunlight hits it all hours of the day. It has rafters with lots and lots of pegs, and a proper roof for keeping the rain out. But it is mostly designed to trap heat inside. It lets sunshine and hot air circulate in the shed and speeds up the drying process.  
  
Rose and I worked outside, braiding the onions and garlic into long plats - like your hair. She had to show me how to braid them, but I catch on quickly, if I do say so myself. The plats are hung on the pegs. It is stifling hot in there! Certainly removes the moisture in a hurry. Sam and Rose already had it full of dried peppers and flowers and herbs. We had to remove them back to a storeroom at Bag End. The onions and garlic will stay in the drying shed for a couple of days, then we move them to the storeroom too. I think Rose is going to take a lot of onions to market next Saturday as well as her usual delivery here to the Inn."  
  
"Well, I was a farmer today, too. Tandy and his wife Opal, had me helping with the medicinal garden harvest today when I wasn't seeing patients," Iris said as she ate her dinner. "I got to gather rose hips and petals. I know Tandy uses the hips for teas, but I think he's going to try a new perfume this year. He's always experimenting with new concoctions and inventions. The garden has so many flowers he's afforded the luxury of perfume-making during the winter, if we can only preserve all this bounty."  
  
"Doctor Proudfoot, Mam?"  
  
Their dinner was interrupted by a middle-aged hobbit in an obvious hurry. He wore a dusty homespun shirt with sleeves rolled up over his muscular arms, and a pair of somewhat worn brown trousers with suspenders. His face was tanned and lined from years in the sun and his typical brown curly hair was bleached blonde. He was wringing his hands in distress, a few splatters of blood drying on his shirt.  
  
"Mister Wyncot," Iris said, putting down her utensils, "what's the matter?" Frodo also stopped eating.  
  
"It's me boy, young Ted," the farmer said. "He's taken a bad fall from the top o' the barn and landed all wrong. It's his arm. It's broke wid' the bone stickin' out. Me Misses sent me for ya. Can ya come out quick, please?"  
  
Compound fractures were one of the leading causes of disfigurement and death amongst the farming community. Whilst setting the broken bone usually was not difficult, the infection which invariably resulted more often than not turned gangrenous and sometimes proved fatal. This was a serious accident and everyone knew it. Conversation around the inn dropped to a whisper at the sudden news.  
  
Iris and Frodo abandoned their dinner and led the distraught farmer back to the Physician's Office. 


	2. Twilight

Chapter Title: Twilight Chapter Rating: PG-13 (gruesome medical procedures)  
  
Iris turned to Frodo as she loaded supplies into her leather medical bag. "Frodo, would you write up a notice of where I am going and post it on the front door?" As she completed filling her bag, Frodo readied the note and was posting it as she and Farmer Wyncot came out the door. Iris lead them next door into the Apothecary. Tandy Bolger was in, hanging more herb bunches to dry.  
  
"Tandy," Iris said, "I need an arm splint and an extra box of sulfur powder." Tandy quickly retrieved the splint and handed it to Frodo while Iris helped herself to the powder.  
  
"Iris," Frodo asked, "do you mind if I come along?"  
  
"I could use an assistant as long as you do exactly what I say and don't speak unless spoken to," Iris sternly said as she closed the bag. "Come, let's hurry."  
  
Farmer Wyncot led them out of Hobbiton and down a country lane. After a fast march of twenty minutes, they arrived at the family farm. All three were dusty and sweating as they walked into the cool farmhouse. The house was a combination of smial burrowed into a shallow hillside, and a low single-story addition out the back side of the hill. The farmer led them back through the smial and into a bedroom off the back of the house. They could hear a loud female voice snapping orders.  
  
A young hobbit in appearance of thirty years was lying on the small bed, a bloody cloth covering his right arm which lay strapped to a board. The farm wife, evidently the source of all the loud talking, was attending him, mopping his brow. She was barking orders at servants to bring water and towels and build a fire. Another sunburned-brown farm lad stood at the foot of the bed, hands gripping the posts and the muscles in his jaw flexing with concern. It was obvious the two lads were brothers, they so resembled each other.  
  
"I've brought Doctor, Mirabell," Farmer Wyncot said as they entered the room.  
  
Iris immediately went over to the injured lad, handing Frodo her medical bag. "Hello. You must be Ted. I'm Doctor Proudfoot and this is Mister Baggins, my assistant."  
  
The lad looked up with concern on his pallid brown face. "Hello," he softly said. "Can you save me arm, Doc? Ma says you may have to take it. She says it don't look too good. I don't want it cut off! Please, can you help me?" The lad became more agitated as he talked.  
  
Iris smoothed the damp brown curls from his pale forehead, simultaneously soothing her patient and checking his temperature. Iris noted that a small pool of blood was forming under the bed.  
  
"I'll see," she smiled. "I can't promise you anything. Let's stay calm and let me take a look. Lie still and take slow, even breaths. I might not be doing anything for awhile yet. You concentrate on steady breathing, Ted."  
  
Mrs. Wyncot stormed over to Iris's side.  
  
"Well. what are you standin' round for?" she snapped at the doctor. "Ain't ya goin' ta do sommat? He's been lying there fer an hour or more."  
  
Iris glanced at Frodo, who set down her bag and the splint on a nearby table and gently slid over to be behind the agitated goodwife.  
  
"Is this your lad, 'mam?" Iris inquired.  
  
"Yes, yes. Ain't it plain enough?" Mrs. Wyncot practically shouted. "I want you to take care o' him right away. What are ye waiting on? Do sommat!"  
  
"Ma, don't yell at the doc," the lad at the foot of the bed said.  
  
"Now, Mother," Farmer Wyncot cooed at his wife, "leave Doctor be. Let her do what's right for the lad." He placed his arm on his wife's shoulders and she violently shrugged him away.  
  
"Don't you be tell' me what to do!" Mrs. Wyncot practically shrieked. "Were you what got 'im into this mess in the first place!"  
  
"Ma, don't." the injured lad managed to whisper.  
  
Iris stepped up and took the husband and wife by the arm. "I'll not be having a family argument here which would further upset my patient." She turned to the young lad at the end of the bed. "You."  
  
He looked up. "Yes Mam? I'm Jack."  
  
"Take your parents out of the room while I examine Ted," Iris commanded. "Frodo? Help them out and come back in as soon as you may. Bring plenty of water and towels and have them put a kettle of water on to boil for medicine."  
  
Iris turned to comfort her patient as Frodo, Jack and his father managed to drag the now-hysterical Mrs. Wyncot out of the room. Jack and Frodo located the water and towels prepared by the servants, while Farmer Wyncot stood guard over his distraught wife.  
  
A brief cry of pain issued from the bedroom. As Frodo and Jack returned to the sick room, they could hear Ted's mother weeping uncontrollably.  
  
Iris had removed the board under the injured arm and had cut away his bloody shirt sleeve. She was holding his upper arm above the injury, attempting to slow down the steady blood loss. Frodo heard her softly talking to Ted as they re-entered the room and set the basins of water down on the floor.  
  
"Well, what were you doing up so high?" Frodo overheard Iris asking.  
  
"Stacking hay bales," Ted whispered. "I didn't watch my footing. I thought the bale was secure. Well, it weren't. I would have been all right 'cept I fell atop the water trough. I don't remember after that, save for wakin' up here wid Ma all weepy-like. They won't let me look. It must be bad or Ma would have just set it and not called you. Am I gon' ta loose me arm?" The young lad's thin voice was becoming frantic again at the thought of amputation.  
  
"Calm down," Iris instructed as she continued to try to control the heavy bleeding. "Do as I said and slow your breathing. I have not fully examined the injury yet. I'll do so now. It will hurt some more, I promise that, but you're a brave lad."  
  
Iris turned to Jack. "Are you in the least bit squeamish at the sight of blood?"  
  
"No mam," he replied. He stood there with a load of clean towels, awaiting instruction.  
  
"Wonderful. I've two steady, strong assistants," Iris continued. She beckoned Frodo over to her side and whispered, "Stay between me and the patient's head. I don't want him to see the injury until I'm through." Frodo nodded and positioned himself by the young hobbit's right shoulder. He smiled encouragingly at Ted, but it didn't look good to him. There was an awful lot of blood seeping through Iris's fingers and dripping onto the already-large puddle on the floor.  
  
Iris turned to Jack and had him arrange the towels atop his brother's legs. She then moved him to his brother's left shoulder. "Hold his shoulder down and watch his face," she instructed. Iris had positioned herself on the right side so as to limit Jack's view of his brother's terrible injury.  
  
She then turned her attention to the bloody towel covering Ted's right arm. Iris carefully removed the towel, revealing a sickening sight underneath. The upper arm was broken in two and part of the bone was protruding through the muscle and skin. Blood was everywhere and already-dead tissue hung in strips off the jagged edges of the bone. The entire arm was covered with clotted bits of hay, dust and manure.  
  
Frodo swallowed hard at the sight, but kept his outward composure steady. He placed his hand on Ted's right shoulder to keep the lad from moving.  
  
Iris checked the lower arm. It was cool and blue-tinged, which was never a good sign. The bone might have severed the artery supplying blood to the rest of the arm. But was the lower arm still useful? Would it be worth saving? Iris turned back to Ted.  
  
"Ted?" she asked, "it may hurt, but can you wiggle the fingers on your right hand for me?"  
  
There was no movement. Iris took out a needle and pricked each fingertip, trying to elicit a response, but Ted was unable to feel anything. The nerves were evidently severed. The arm would be useless, but perhaps she could save it so he would not appear so disfigured. At least she could try. But how could she get blood back into the arm?  
  
She motioned for Frodo to take over applying pressure on the arm for her. As she relaxed her grip before positioning Frodo's hand, a sudden warm spurt of crimson shot across the arm, spattering Ted's chest and Frodo's vest and left sleeve. Jack noticeably paled at the sight, but managed to swallow and hold onto his distraught brother's shoulder.  
  
"All right Ted," Iris crooned, covering the injury with a fresh towel. "Looks like you'll have to keep that old arm of yours a while longer. But I'll need to clean and reset the broken bone. That will be far too painful for you to bear while awake. I'm going to give you a tea which will put you to sleep while I reset your arm and try to fix things. Do you understand?"  
  
Ted nodded, his face ashen. He smiled weakly at his brother, who patted his shoulder in encouragement.  
  
Iris rummaged through her medical bag and produced a pouch of her special sedative tea and an infuser. She started the tea to steeping while she arranged the splint, needles and medical tools on the bed atop Ted's legs. The room took on a strange, sharp smell.  
  
Ted screwed up his face at the smell. "What's in that stuff?" he whispered to Frodo.  
  
Frodo bent down to whisper back to Ted. "I have no idea, but I had to drink it when I was injured. It tastes horrible, but if you can gulp it down all at once it is not too bad. It certainly works though. I do not remember a thing about my surgery after taking some of that tea."  
  
"What kind of injury did you have, Mister Baggins?" Jack innocently inquired.  
  
Before Frodo could answer Iris came back over with the tea. "Frodo. Jack. Please lift Ted up a little so he can drink this. Ted - try to drink it all at one time. I want you to drink every last drop too."  
  
Ted couldn't suppress a grunt of pain as Frodo and Jack lifted his shoulders slightly. After catching his breath, he managed to gulp the strange tea down. He didn't quite manage all the tea, but Iris was satisfied with the amount he had swallowed. She helped support his injured arm as he was laid back down on the bed.  
  
The injured arm began bleeding again. Ted blanched and gasped in pain as Iris resumed pressure to the wound to slow the bleeding. Frodo moved back to his shoulder, blocking the view.  
  
Jack reassured his brother and patted him as the sedative began to take effect. After only a minute, Ted sighed and closed his heavy eyelids. In another minute he was unconscious. Iris was concerned. Ted shouldn't have dropped off to sleep that quickly. Something was wrong.  
  
It was difficult to see anything in the room, as dusk had fallen during their stay. Evening had arrived as the cloudless skies seen through the bedroom window very gradually took on a rust and green hue, finally surrendering to twilight blue. Tiny golden stars shimmer in the heated atmosphere, twinkling on and off like ghosts of long-gone summer fireflies.  
  
"Jack?" Iris didn't look up from her patient. "Would you please bring in as many candles as you can?" He left and quickly returned with two large candelabras which were lighted and set up on either side of the bed. Iris then dismissed the young hobbit.  
  
After washing the entire arm, she carefully went back over the broken upper arm with a second, more thorough washing, paying careful attention to removing bits of dead skin, tissue, and the more obvious bone fragments. The bleeding never stopped. Ted's skin began to resemble the candles.  
  
Frodo assisted the doctor as best he could. The young lad was bleeding profusely through the gash, blood spurting with each heartbeat. Iris directed Frodo to reposition his fingers above the wound, asking him to press hard on the leaking artery. But it was doing little good.  
  
Frodo had trouble compressing the flattened artery against the bone since the bone was dislocated and splintered. Blood covered his arms and hands and splattered up across his white shirt and vest. Ted groaned and writhed in his unconsciousness.  
  
"Hold him down," Iris commanded as she reached for a tourniquet. "I've got to control his bleeding or we're going to loose him." Frodo abandoned his futile attempt to compress the artery and practically lay across Ted's upper chest, trying to still the patient. Iris tied the tourniquet around Ted's upper arm amid a torrent of blood.  
  
Iris quickly moved down to Ted's blue hand and frantically pulled the broken lower arm, forcing the bone back into its cavity with a sickening wet noise. The wound produced another gush of bright scarlet blood. It spattered her face and went into her hair. She ignored it and quickly wrapped the arm in a towel, trying direct pressure. The towel blossomed crimson beneath her hands.  
  
Ted suddenly stopped his thrashing, sighed, and lay still.  
  
"No! Ted! Breathe!" Iris cried.  
  
Frodo released his hold on the farm lad and took over compression on the wound as Iris rushed to Ted's face. He was not breathing. His face was completely white and his eyes closed. Iris checked for a pulse, but there was none. She checked for any signs of life, but it was over. Ted had died from blood loss. 


	3. Nightingale

Chapter Title: Nightingale Chapter Rating: R (sexual situations, medical gore)  
  
Frodo released his hold on the broken arm, reached over and handed a clean towel to Iris. The dead boy lay in a midnight pool of his own blood, candlelight flickering a strangely warm golden hue to an otherwise ghostly pale body.  
  
From behind them both came a long wail of grief. Farmer and Mrs. Wyncot and their son, Jack, were standing in the doorway, holding each other as they surveyed the deathbed. The sturdy farmer had tears rolling down his weathered face. His son held his mother, a state of shock slowly working its way across his features.  
  
Iris closed her eyes in resignation. Frodo tried to towel the blood from his hands, then went to Iris.  
  
"He was talking!" Mrs. Wyncot sobbed. "He was awake! What did you DO to him?" She accused the doctor, "You killed my boy! You killed my Teddy!"  
  
Farmer Wyncot gathered his wife into his arms as she sobbed and spat at the doctor. Iris opened her eyes and looked at Frodo. He recognized the look. It was one of abject and utter resignation at her failure. Her eyes were dry, though Ted's life-force dripped in slow rivulets through her hair and down her cheeks. She looked as if she was crying blood.  
  
Iris could not will her body to move. Frodo wiped her face with the towel and moved her aside so the Wyncot family could gather round the bed.  
  
"Please don't mind Ma," Jack apologized as the tears coursed down his face. "She's. she's not in her right mind. We know you did all you could, an' we thank ye, Doctor." He knelt beside his brother's side and wept into the sheets.  
  
Iris finally roused herself and started methodically rinsing, drying and putting away her tools and herbs. Frodo gathered the unused arm splint as they made their way back through the smial and out into the cool night air, leaving the pitiful family to grieve in private.  
  
Neither Frodo nor Iris said a word as they trudged back towards Hobbiton. Ted's blood was drying into uncomfortably crusty lumps on Frodo's shirt. It mingled with his own sweat to form horribly sweet-smelling sticky patches of reddish-brown moisture. Iris wouldn't look at him. She simply plodded on, mindless of the drying blood and dust covering her, or the darkness of the road ahead.  
  
As they came to a small stream, Frodo reached out a hand to stop her progress.  
  
"Iris?" he said, "I cannot take this any longer. I have to wash it off."  
  
She looked at him in the gloom of the evening, her eyes unreadable in the dark.  
  
"Come on," he continued. "Take my hand." He led her off the dusty roadway and upstream until he found a path down to the water. Iris suddenly loosed her grip from his hand and ran down to the shore, throwing her medical bag into the bushes. Frodo retrieved the bag and followed.  
  
She stood fully clothed in the middle of the stream, looking up through the gently swaying trees at the twinkling stars set in a midnight sky. As Frodo approached, he could see the tears finally rolling down her cheeks. He placed his items on the sandy bank and waded out to her.  
  
"I could have saved him." She continued crying to the stars, fists clenched and ridged at her sides. "He didn't have to die. If I had amputated as soon as we came, he would be alive right now. But no. I thought I could save his arm too. I should have amputated. I could have saved him."  
  
Frodo clasped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. "Iris, you did everything in your power to save him. You did nothing wrong. There is no blame. You tried everything. Sometimes we fail despite our utmost effort."  
  
She lowered her face into her bloody hands and sobbed. Frodo gathered her to his bosom as they stood together in the flowing stream. She rested her hands on his shoulders and lay her head against his neck. He had unbuttoned the top two button of his shirt in the heat, and the softness of his fair skin felt cool against her flushed cheek. He stroked her hair and removed the pins restraining her wild curls. Her hair spilled out in a tangled mess, clumps of dried blood breaking away to dissolve in the murky water.  
  
Every article of clothing she wore was soaked in blood. Her mind was numb with grief and remorse. She could do nothing for herself at the moment. She allowed Frodo to completely undress her and lay her clothes on the bank, momentarily forgetting modesty or convention. It was simply too painful to think. Frodo removed his own filthy vest and shirt, laying them beside Iris's clothes. Glancing back, he was shocked. Iris was squatting down near the shore, grabbing handfuls of sand and mud, violently scrubbing her skin with the abrasive mixture. Frodo rushed back and grabbed her wrists before she could abrade her skin even more than she had already. Dark scratches wept her own blood to mix with her dead patient's.  
  
"Stop it, Iris," Frodo commanded. "Hurting yourself won't bring him back."  
  
She twisted abruptly, freeing her hands from his control, and violently threw the sand and mud at his naked chest. "What do you know?" she snapped sarcastically. "Maybe pain is better than silence."  
  
Frodo reached out and held her hands in a firm grip. "I know. I know. I have been there," he sadly said. He would not let her go despite her struggles.  
  
"Iris. Iris. listen to me. You tried your best. You did what you could. It's all that could be expected of you."  
  
Frodo released on wrist and brought his maimed right hand up under Iris's chin, forcing her to look at him. Starlight magnified the white gem hanging from a thin silver chain about his neck. To her tear-bedazzled eyes it appeared as a star shining from his breast, piercing her heart with beauty beyond life or death or caring.  
  
"Is there still beauty in this world?" she wondered, staring at Frodo's dark curls and smooth skin glistening alabaster in the starlight.  
  
Their struggle in the water had awakened sleeping birds in the surrounding cottonwood trees. A nightingale trilled his cadenza into the night air. Frodo's beauty and the bird's carefree oratorio broke her heart.  
  
She cried in her nakedness and need as he gently gathered her into his arms. They sank into the stream, letting the cool water wash over their bloody and muddy forms in the starlight. Frodo lowered her hair into the water and let the flood wash away the matted gore. She no longer resisted him, but clung to his form with a desperation born of despair.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, Iris opened her eyes. Frodo was still cradling her nakedness, her own arms clasped about his neck. He pulled her wet curls away from her sorrowful face and gently kissed her cheek. She turned towards him to find a face full of understanding and love. He kissed her lips in the darkness, tasting her mouth with his tongue. kissing the corners of her mouth. her chin. and back to her lips. She responded in a desperate desire to imprison his honey-sweet mouth with hers. She lusted to capture his beauty in the night - to wipe out the despair and death.  
  
Frodo lay her upon the sandy banks of the stream and removed the remainder of his clothing. His skin gleamed silver in the darkness, the water glinting on his form with reflected starlight; his raven hair a dark halo against the sky.  
  
She wanted him as she had never wanted to possess anything in her life. Her loins ached with desire to have his hot flesh fill her; consume her; release her with an absolution born of shame. She reached up and brought his body atop hers, her hand desperately seeking to immediately force himself into her womb. But he would not permit it.  
  
"No, Iris," he gently whispered as he captured her grasping hands and held them above her head. "No. Not this way. I will not let you use me to punish yourself."  
  
She writhed under his weight, trying to twist her arms out from his grasp. But he would not let her go.  
  
"Take me," she wept into the night air. "I need you."  
  
"I shall," he whispered. "I shall, dearest. But only in love. Not in lust or as some twisted punishment. Only in love."  
  
He continued to restrain her as he kissed her neck - a slow sensuous kiss full of sighs and the wind. A kiss that traveled up over her chin and then captured her mouth. She groaned with pleasure and frustration. He slowly moved down the other side of her jaw and began caressing her breasts. She involuntarily arched her back, exquisite jolts of sensual pleasure instantly connecting her breasts to her loins as he kissed and lightly suckled.  
  
He released her hands, half expecting her to claw at him again. But she momentarily left them stretched above her head, then languidly moved them down to caress his tangled midnight curls. Tears escaped her eyes as she silently wept. Frodo stopped and moved back to her side.  
  
"Frodo," Iris whispered through her sobs, "why do you do this to me? What do you care so much?" She looked into his hypnotic inky blue eyes. "Why did you come back to the Shire?"  
  
"Because I love," he replied simply and honestly. "I have seen evil from without and the evil each of us carries in our own hearts. I have experienced the bitter taste of power and lust. I reject them. I have been purified through the wheel of fire and rescued only by the mercy and love of others. I only desire to return the love I have received." He moved closer. "And I find love here. Back where I least expected it."  
  
"I love the Shire as I love myself." His hand caressed her face. "I love you as I love Middle Earth itself." A soft kiss on her eyelids as he carefully positioned himself on top of her.  
  
"I love the land." A kiss on her ear tip. ". the trees." A tongue from ear down to collarbone. She moaned and caressed his naked back. ". the air." His mouth on her nipple again, sucking it into its own instant erection then lightly blowing upon it. ". the water." His hands on her knees, separating them. ". the sun." An unexpected kiss on her stomach, making her groan. ". the night sky." A finger slipped into her moistness, causing a soft cry to escape her parted lips. ". the stars." His fingers left her, only to be replaced by what she most desired. ". you." As he pressed his entire length deep within her velvety shelter.  
  
Iris writhed in the ecstasy of his rhythm; the sand under her; his weight upon her, pinning her to the ground yet freeing her soul. Her breath came in ragged pants as he thrust into her time and time and time again. They were coming towards climax. She could feel him swelling within her and her own heart replying.  
  
"Yield me your love," he demanded as he continued towards their peak. "Will you yield me your love?"  
  
She finally opened her eyes and gazed into his depths.  
  
"I do. I yield unto thee."  
  
At that, Frodo curled down and placed his forearms on either side of her face, releasing some of his weight from her. Iris was finally able to tilt her hips upwards, forcing his strokes deeper within her womb. She wished he would split her in two, and as if he could read her mind, he moaned and drove even harder into her as he came.  
  
Her orgasm was an almost instant reaction to his. They groaned as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss captured their minds and bodies in locked delight.  
  
He lay atop her as they recovered. He attempted to disengage, but Iris quickly reached around his body to restrain him.  
  
"Please don't go," she pleaded to his warmth. "Don't leave me."  
  
"I shall stay as long as I am able," he replied, "but I fear eventually all good things come to an end."  
  
"Even love?" she suddenly asked. "Does love come to an end?"  
  
"No," he smiled in the night, "I stand. or rather, I lay corrected. Iris, love has no end. For the world was sung into being with love as its foundation. And all things in the world are based upon that love. While the seas and the mountains endure, love will endure."  
  
"If love is the basis for the world, why do we feel such pain?" she sadly asked as she ran her hands up and down his back. "I've lost patients before. But I feel so guilty with this one. Ted asked me to help, but I could not. Where is the love in this death?"  
  
Frodo stroked her hair. "Do you not know? The Elves call death the Gift of Eru to the Second Born. They envy our mortality. Death is not punishment, Iris. It is a release from Time; from the physical world. Neither the Second Born nor the Eldar know what follows death, but since it is a direct creation of the One, it is not to be feared.  
  
Death was created out of love. Never fear death. For your patients and for yourself, death is the ultimate blessing."  
  
He kissed her and gently withdrew. This time she did not cling to him, but let him reposition himself beside her on the banks of the stream. She drank in the beauty of his slim body gleaming in the starlight.  
  
"I will stay with you as long as I can," he caressed her body, "but death will come to me as well as it did to Ted Wyncot today. We feel the pain and frustration of our inability to stop death, but it comes as a grace. We feel the pain because we care. And if you did not feel this pain, I could not love you."  
  
They lay in each others arms for awhile, listening to the nightingale and watching the stars. Finally, Iris sighed and sat up.  
  
"Where are my clothes?"  
  
"Over by the bushes next to your medical bag," Frodo answered.  
  
"I need to rinse them in the stream," she said as she rose to retrieve her soiled clothes. Frodo also arose and joined her again at the water's edge. They scrubbed Ted's blood out of the fabric as best they could. It was a struggle to put all the soaking wet clothes back on in the dark, but eventually they were ready to leave.  
  
The nightingale had ceased his solo. Clouds covered the stars. Rain began to fall. 


	4. Legends

Chapter 4 Title: Legends Chapter Rating: PG (Angst)  
  
Hobbiton slumbered away through the midnight shower. No one witnessed Iris and Frodo entering into the sleepy village, nor did anyone see them wearily pass through the doors to the Physician's Office and private residence. Iris ripped the rain-spattered note affixed to the front door, and threw it down into the mud.  
  
She had been content to let Frodo carry the medical bag and hold her hand as they slogged their way through the rain and dark back to Hobbiton. But now she was cold and uncommunicative. Frodo didn't know what to do to. Had he made a mistake in making love to Iris when she was so vulnerable?  
  
"Iris? Would you like me to draw you a warm bath, or get you something?" Frodo asked as he set down her medical bag and the useless splint. He located a candle and flint on a side table in the hallway. Within a moment the physician's living quarters came into focus in the wavering light.  
  
The physician's private living areas were simple, yet elegant. She favored furnishings which focused on practicality and function, rather than the more normal clutter of a typical smial. Solid colors and solid furniture in easily-washed cottons and polished hardwoods defined Iris's style.  
  
Frodo caught a glimpse of himself in an oval mirror set on the simple burled maple table. A pale, glimmering wraith grasping a flickering candle stared back at him. His hair was plastered in dripping midnight curls onto his forehead. His wet and bloodstained vest, shirt and breeches clung to his frame as if they were a second skin.  
  
Iris looked like a nightmare. Her normally well-groomed and platted curly brown hair tumbled across her shoulders in a tangled mess. Her clothes were thoroughly soaked with the rain, and were stained a faint brownish-red from her deceased patient's blood. Scratches on her forearms had bled into the cloth and ribbons hanging limply from her sleeves.  
  
Frodo walked over to Iris as she stood at the doorway to her bedroom. He reached out a hand towards her shoulder, but she deftly sidestepped his move. Something was definitely wrong.  
  
"Don't touch me," she whispered, backing away from his reach and stumbling into a chair in the dark.  
  
"Iris, please!" Frodo advanced towards her.  
  
"Please don't, Frodo. Please leave," she sobbed. "Leave me alone. I've done enough damage today." Iris was blindly backing into her small bedroom, tears welling into her green eyes. She steadied herself on the small cushioned chair.  
  
Frodo advanced and gathered her in his arms. She cried in misery. He stroked her tangled locks, holding her tight, and murmured little nonsense noises into her small pointed ears until the crying fit had passed.  
  
"Shush now," Frodo crooned. "Shush. Tell me what is wrong."  
  
"Oh, Frodo, I am afraid. And I'm so lonely," she sobbed into his already- wet curls. "I'm so far away from my home. From my family. You're the only one I can talk to, and now you must think me dreadful. I'm such a failure."  
  
"You are not," he softly said, continuing to stroke her hair. "You are not a failure and you are not dreadful. You are wonderful and I love you very much." He placed his hand below her chin and tipped her plain face upwards to look into her green eyes. "Very much." And he closed his eyes and kissed her. A long, but pristine kiss. A kiss of angels and starlight. A kiss completely un-returned. His confusion mounted.  
  
"You are very much wanted and needed here, Iris Proudfoot, physician and healer," he continued stroking her hair. "I need you. We all need you desperately. And you are very much loved here as well. Whilst we will never replace the family you left behind, we hope you will accept us as a new family. We all love you. Sam, Rose, Tandy, Freddy, Merry, Pippin, me. We all love you, Iris.  
  
"Please do not let today ruin all you have worked for. Let it rest. Let it be. Right now you need to get out of these clothes and into a hot bath, and then into bed. Will you let me do that for you, my love?"  
  
"I'll do it myself," Iris sighed as she pushed away from his embrace. "Please, please leave. I can't bear the thought of you touching me again."  
  
"Why?" Frodo asked. They were making love only a short while ago. What was going on? He started towards her and she backed further into the room, placing the chair between them. "Why?"  
  
"Oh, Frodo," Iris sobbed, "I am afraid I might hurt you too. Don't you see? I couldn't take care of Ted Wyncot. What happens the next time you get sick? What do I do then? I couldn't bear to kill you too."  
  
Hot tears ran down her face. Frodo strode around the obstacle and gathered her into his arms again before she could pull away. He hugged her fiercely to himself, then held her away slightly and lightly shook his head. He wiped her tears deliberately using his maimed right hand.  
  
"What can I do to alive your fears?" he asked. "You need not be afraid of me or my illness. I am right here. I am not going away. I am not dying. When I told you at the stream that I would stay with you as long as I was able, I meant it."  
  
"Frodo," she said, "it's not you that I am afraid of. It is me. I am afraid of what I could do to you through ignorance. I feel so inadequate to be your friend and your physician. You suffer from wounds, the like of which I've never seen or even read about in books. It's not like a cold or a sprained ankle or even the vapors. I have no experience in poisonings such as yours.  
  
Magic and Elvish medicine and poisoned swords. These are things out of adventure books or myth, yet here you stand in front of me. You are a legend even if you yourself don't know it. And you come back to the Shire and I don't know what to do! I have no clear idea of how to treat you... or care for you. or . or love you!"  
  
Iris broke away again from his grasp. "Please, if you love me, please leave! I need to be alone to get my mind pieced back together again." She turned her back to him. "Please leave now."  
  
Frodo didn't know what to say. How had this all gone so wrong? He thought he had been so careful to downplay his actions during the War, hiding his pain and terrible memories by a carefully-planned withdrawal from social activities. Planning a life free from the notoriety of the Quest and the Ring. A quiet life. A simple life of a modest landowner and writer of books. And now here he stood, being shunned by the one person in the Shire who he thought would understand and would share that life with him. What had he done wrong?  
  
She refused to look at him.  
  
He left. 


	5. Just Between Friends

Chapter 5: Just Between Friends Chapter Rating: PG (mild language, sexual references)  
  
Sam was in the kitchen making an early breakfast for himself and Rose before heading over to help his in-laws with their farming for the day. He was being especially quiet with the pots and pans while cooking breakfast. But he couldn't suppress the occasional hum of a rather saucy little tavern song which was continuously playing through his mind.  
  
". cakes and muffins, pies and tarts,  
sells the lass that breaks yer heart.  
Save yer shillings, silly lad,  
and spend it on the one that's bad. "  
  
He and Rose had stayed up fairly late for them, enjoying exploring each other's bodies as the newly-weds got to know each other. Rose was still asleep in their cozy bedroom in Bag End.  
  
"Damn, but she's a fine lass," Sam contentedly thought to himself. "Her hair is so soft! Sure never suspected she was so good at love-making neither. You're a lucky stiff, Samwise Gamgee. That you are! Should of married her years ago."  
  
He set the tea kettle on the stove top and turned back to breakfast preparations.  
  
"Maybe breakfast could wait a little while," he considered as the memories of last night took precedence in his conscious thought. His unconscious self had already made up its mind and sent signals down below. Sam's attention was mightily distracted from the mundane task of cooking a porridge. "I could sneak in and have a bit o' fun before she fully wakes up. She's probably lying there, all warm and soft and ready ."  
  
Sam's musings were interrupted as he heard the front door softly snick shut in the dark of pre-dawn.  
  
"Mister Frodo?" Sam softly called out without turning around from his breakfast preparations. "Are you just coming in, sir? Would you like some tea and toast?" Maybe he could talk Frodo into finishing the breakfast cooking whilst Sam snuck back in for a quick turn with Rose.  
  
Frodo padded over and lightly gripped the doorframe leading into the kitchen. "Sam, what are you doing up so early? It is an hour before dawn." He couldn't stifle a huge yawn.  
  
"Rose and me are headed over to the Cotton farm today," Sam replied as he moved the whistling kettle off the burner. "I didn't hear you come in last night. I got worried about you being caught out in the rain, since you didn't take your cloak ... " Sam turned around and got a good look at Frodo's blood-stained and wet clothes.  
  
"Bless me! Are you alright? Whatever have you been up to?" he asked, setting the kettle down. "Best get out of them wet things or you'll catch your death of cold." All thoughts of waking Rose vanished instantly.  
  
Frodo shook his head sadly as he pulled up a chair near the stove and slumped into it. "I am fine. This is not my blood. I was out helping Iris with a patient." Frodo ran his hand through his damp hair in frustration.  
  
"From the looks of it, it didn't go very well," Sam quietly said. He could tell Frodo was disturbed. He handed his friend and master a steaming mug of tea and a tea towel, and sat down across the table.  
  
"No, it did not." Frodo said as he cupped the blue-glazed mug in his hands and ran the towel over his head. "Sam, it was one of the worse things I have ever had to witness. Iris was called out to Farmer Wyncot's place around dinner time. His youngest son fell and broke his arm in a terrible accident."  
  
"Well, that don't sound too bad," Sam quietly said, "but it don't explain the blood on your clothes neither, if you pardon my asking."  
  
Frodo sighed. "It was a very bad compound fracture, with bit of the bone jammed through the skin and sticking out. Well, basically, Ted Wyncot bled to death from the broken arm and there was nothing Iris could do to stop it. She had me and his brother trying to help, but it was useless. I did not know a body had so much blood in it." Frodo shook his head. "It was everywhere! Everywhere . All over me. All over Iris. All over the bed. All over the floor. That poor lad never had a chance. But Iris blames herself for not saving him."  
  
"That's terrible. I know the Wyncots. That Ted was a right strong lad - full of good humor and happiness. What a shame. How's the doc taking it?" Sam asked.  
  
Sam greatly admired the doctor, not only for her abundant medical knowledge, but also for her overt kindness. Sam knew there were many times when Frodo would have succumbed to the lingering guilt and despair from his experiences in destroying the One Ring, were it not for the ministrations of Iris Proudfoot. Sam was also privy to the knowledge that Iris and Frodo had started a quiet relationship. Sam and Rose both agreed that it was the best thing for Master Baggins's state of mind and body.  
  
"Hard. Very hard," Frodo replied. "And I am not sure if I only made things worse by being there."  
  
"Why? What do you mean?" Sam asked.  
  
Frodo looked down at the utensils on the kitchen table, set the mug down and sighed.  
  
"Mister Frodo? What happened?" Sam asked again.  
  
"We . um . well, on the walk back to Hobbiton I insisted on stopping at a creek and washing the blood out of our clothes," Frodo quietly said. He looked into Sam's eyes. "Sam, there was so much blood. It was in her hair, on her face, all over her clothes. She looked like something out of a nightmare. And it was all over me too."  
  
"All right," Sam said, "You wanted to get some off of you. Sounds reasonable to me. But something else happened, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes," Frodo admitted. "She ran into the stream fully clothed, and . oh Sam. I had to stop her from hurting herself. All she could talk about was how guilty she felt for killing that lad. Sam, Iris did not kill Ted Wyncot. Ted bled to death. She tried to save him. But that is not how she sees things right now. She is not thinking straight.  
  
I let her cry it out there in the stream in the dark. I just wanted to comfort her. She has done so much for me, for restoring my sanity after Mordor. For taking care of me in so many ways. Sam, I just wanted to comfort her, that's all."  
  
Sam's brows knitted in consternation. Frodo was reluctant to vocalize what he had done. He was justifying some action. This was a bad sign. "What are you trying to say? What did you do, Mister Frodo?"  
  
Frodo looked away. "I . um . well, we made love on the banks of the stream."  
  
"You did what?!" Sam gulped. He could not believe his ears.  
  
"Um . we made love. I just wanted to comfort her, but things got out of hand. It seemed the right thing to do at the time, but when we arrived at her place she was so cold and distant towards me."  
  
"Beggin' your pardon, Frodo, but don't you think the doc's emotions were messed up enough without you goin' and addin' your two bits to it?" Sam frowned. "You said she was taking her patient's death right hard anyway. I can't see how doin' what you did could have made anythin' better."  
  
Frodo's cheeks and ear tips were burning red. "Sam . I . Oh, how can I explain it?"  
  
"Explain what?" Rose had entered the room wearing her nightgown and robe. Voices from the kitchen had awakened her. She had walked into the tail-end of the exchange between her husband and Frodo and was confused. What was Frodo doing up at this early hour anyway? And why was he dressed in filthy, wet clothes? Was that blood on his shirt sleeves?  
  
"Mister Frodo? Are you all right? Do you need me to go for the doctor?" she innocently asked.  
  
"Damn!" Frodo exclaimed, getting up out of the chair and quickly striding past the startled Rose. Sam and Rose could hear Frodo pacing about in his study for a second, then his footsteps were heard heading off towards his bathing room.  
  
"Explain what, Sam?" Rose inquired of her husband.  
  
Sam sighed and scratched the back of his sandy-brown curls, "Oh my. Oh my. This is goin' to take a bit of explaining myself to do, Rosie." 


	6. Shattered

Chapter 6: Shattered Chapter Rating: PG-13 (mild language, adult themes)  
  
He was finally gone. Thank the stars he was gone. Iris had wanted him out ever since they had reached her residence. She could finally relax and stop thinking about . about . about it.  
  
"Oh dear . So much blood. I couldn't control the bleeding. So much blood.  
  
I won't think about that right now. But I'm wearing it. I'm covered in blood. I'll have to take care of that. I have to take a bath. So much blood. No. Don't think on it. I simply have to take a bath.  
  
Wait . Didn't I take a bath already tonight? In the stream? With Frodo? Oh . don't think on it. Draw the bath water. I must take a bath. I am filthy."  
  
Her actions were mechanical. Actions her unconscious self performed in order to preserve her body while her conscious mind began to close down. "Light," she thought. "I need some light. It's so dark in here. So dark ."  
  
Iris grasped the lighted candle sitting on the maple side table in the hallway. "Who lighted the candle?" She couldn't remember. She sighed and went into her small kitchen. She lighted a couple of wrought iron candle sconces and walked across the short hallway back into her bedroom. She lighted another candle on the small end table beside her bed. The delicate white lace doilies glowed faintly under the golden flame.  
  
Being a hobbitess of habit, she returned the original candle back to the hallway table and extinguished it. Glancing up, she noticed her darkened reflection in the mirror, just as Frodo had noticed his a little while earlier. A bedraggled apparition blinked back in surprise at her. A drowned ghost arisen from its watery, bloody grave.  
  
"So much blood ." her numbed mind voiced. "I'll have to take care of that too."  
  
As in a dream, she drifted down the darkened hallway and back into the kitchen. She set about lighting the stove and getting some water heating for a bath.  
  
"I have to take a bath." That was the one thought constantly playing itself over and over and over in her shattered mind. "I have to take a bath. I have to wash this off me. I have to take care of that. I have to take a bath."  
  
Iris walked through the connecting hallway and into the bathing room, taking a firebrand from the stove box and lighting the beeswax candle set into its wall sconce below the little window overlooking the backyard. She returned to the kitchen, tossing the firebrand into the stove box, and took the warmed water back into the bathing room. She filled the tub time and time again with warm water. In between heating the kettle, she shed her soiled clothes, throwing them into a damp heap on the wooden bedroom floor.  
  
In the light of the flickering candle Iris selected an aromatic oil from her private supply stored in the linen pantry along the west wall of the room. "Lavender." Her mind automatically analyzed and categorized the fragrance as she added a few drops of the precious perfume to her bath. "I love lavender. Frodo has lavender growing in his garden. It's in the blue area. Sam must have planted ages ago, it's so well established."  
  
Her mind wandered from thought to thought, content to let the sense of smell stimulate pleasant memories. Memories of her family back in Southway. Memories of green grass and lush marshland smells. The earth. The smell of mud and growing things. The smell of her grandmother. Lavender and roses. Wild onions. Buttermilk. Honey and wine. Peach and cherry in bloom.  
  
Iris luxuriated in her bath. She lowered herself into the soothing warm water. She mechanically washed her hair, letting herself slip under the water while rinsing the soap out of her tresses. She was tempted to stay under the water as long as she could, holding her breath. But her innate fear of being underwater won out over her conscious mind as she suddenly broke the surface of the bath and sputtered.  
  
The sponge went flying, landing in a large looping arch next to the tub. "I'm going to need that." She grabbed the sponge and vigorously worked the strong lye soap into a thick bubbly lather.  
  
The doctor washed her fatigued body, wincing slightly as the soap stung the raw scrapes on her forearms. "How did I hurt myself?" She had no recollection of how she received the scratches. "I'll have to take care of those after the bath," she absentmindedly thought.  
  
After the bath Iris toweled her hair dry and returned to her bedroom. "Ah, it smells so good in here. Oh yes, Tandy's flowers and herbs are drying in here."  
  
She automatically pulled on her robe and sat down at the dressing table. Personal toiletry items presented themselves to her on more pristine white cotton lace doilies. They were so familiar. So correctly placed. The same way she laid out her surgical tools. Iris had owned the toiletries since childhood. A matched set of South Farthing tortoise shell items for taking care of her wild curly hair. A special gift from her mother and father - something new and completely hers alone, not a hand-me-down from her older sister. She took up her favorite comb and began to de-tangle her hair, catching a glimpse of herself reflected by candlelight in the mirror.  
  
Who was this weary person staring back at her? Dark circles under her hollow green eyes. Angry red scratches on her forearms. "How did I hurt myself?" she again wondered. "I have blood on my arms. I'll have to take care of that. I have to wash it off. I must take a bath."  
  
Iris wandered back into the bathing room, dragging her damp towel along the wet floor. She noticed the tub was full of still-warm soapy water. "Lavender. Now, who could have been in here taking a bath?" She absent- mindedly disrobed, climbed back into the tub and started bathing again. Again, the sting of soap on her scratched forearms caught her attention.  
  
"What am I doing? I just took a bath."  
  
Iris stepped out of the bath and toweled herself dry again, using the same wet towel as before. An area of the white towel darkened with faint red stains. "Why is it doing that? I'll have to take care of that too."  
  
It was then that Iris consciously noticed the scratches on her forearms. Tears welled up in her eyes as the events of the evening flooded back into her shattered mind.  
  
"What have I done? I killed that lad as surely as if I stood there and stabbed him with a scalpel. Oh, Elbereth. The Wyncots must hate me. Frodo must hate me. Why would he make love to me if he hates me? Why, oh why didn't I amputate while there was still time? I shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine."  
  
Iris was thoroughly disgusted with herself, but her practical nature refused to let self-hatred win possession of her soul. "Well, beating myself up is not going to change the outcome. I let my emotions interfere with my work. I shan't do that again. I can't let that happen again, ever! Especially not to Frodo.  
  
Shiest! I've been so stupid! I've fallen in love with a patient. My most difficult patient at that! I can't afford to do that. I can't let my heart rule my head. He'll end up dead just like Ted Wyncot. Shiest! What a stupid lass I've been. I've got to stop this right away. We can't . We shouldn't have . Oh, damn . I'll think on that later."  
  
Iris gathered the candle from the wall sconce and wandered down the hallway into the front examination room. She absentmindedly applied a soothing salve to her scratches, then bandaged them as well as she could one- handedly. Years of medical training took over her actions as she methodically put away the bandages, scissors and ointment, and tidied up the examination room. It was ready to receive the next patient.  
  
"What next patient? I shouldn't be allowed to see patients," the dark thought popped into her head. Iris looked about the combination examination and surgery room, glancing at the shelves of ointment and bandages and medical implements. Glancing at the pitchers and bowls and tables. At the tiny chair and plush stuffed animals she kept in a corner of the room for her youngest patients. "I shouldn't be allowed to practice medicine. I might kill someone again."  
  
She retired to her bedroom. She was tired. So tired. As Iris again pulled on her robe, she noticed the pile of blood-stained clothes lying in a wet heap on the floor.  
  
The clothes were offensive. The doctor decided to burn them in the backyard. The Physician's Building and the Hobbiton Apothecary were next to each other. They shared not only a wall, but also the common backyard consisting of the medical gardens and outbuildings. Iris tended it with her cousin Tandy Bofin and his new bride, Opal Fairbarn.  
  
Iris gathered the ruined clothes into her sore arms and took the wet rags to the rubbish heap. She decided to burn them later that day.  
  
Dawn was breaking as she stood outside in her robe. The rain clouds from the night were receding into the west. The sun below the horizon lighted up the underside of the clouds, turning the morning sky crimson and rose. Somewhere in the sleepy town of Hobbiton, a cock crowed his greeting to the sun as she peeked above the horizon. Iris stood in the little medicinal garden beside the rubbish heap, staring at the overhead clouds.  
  
"The sky is bleeding," she thought. "I shall have to take care of that too. But who's going to take care of me?" 


	7. Little Tongues

Chapter 7 Title: Little Tongues Chapter rating: R (language, mild violence)  
  
Ted Wyncot was buried the next day in his family's private plot behind the family's smial hill.  
  
In his grief and sorrow, Ted's father burned everything in the room in which his son died. The bed, the sheets, the side tables, the trunk at the foot of the bed, the chest of drawers and its contents, the rug, even the candelabra stands were burned. Anything that had a speck of blood was hauled out of the room and added to the pyre back behind the barn. Thick black smoke could be seen all the way to Hobbiton.  
  
A couple of the Wyncot's farm hands and a servant girl had traveled into Hobbiton the night of Ted's death. By the next morning the main gossip of the town centered upon the physician, the Wyncots, and the mysterious Mister Baggins who was present during the treatment. Rumors ran ripe at the Green Dragon Inn.  
  
"He was there with the doc. I saw him," said Stuart Thigpen, one of the Wyncot's hired hands. Stuart and the other farm lads were given the day off after the funeral. He was taking an early lunch at the Green Dragon. A small crowd of the curious had gathered around his table.  
  
"Now, mind you, the doc, well . she did everything she could to save young Master Wyncot from what I could see peekin' in the winder. But I be thinkin' she arrived too late to be much good," Stuart continued. "Mistress Wyncot - now, she's taking it right hard like. She says the doc didn't do for her lad fast enough."  
  
"Well, did she?" asked a voice from the crowd. It was May Bracegirdle, the town gossip.  
  
"I don't rightly know about that," Stuart said as he took a sip of his beer. "The doc was awfully quick about things once she arrived. Oustin' the Mistress away from her poor, sick lad didn't sit too well with the family, I can tell ya that. Don't right know why Mister Baggins was with the doc though. But he must have done some holdin' down. They was both covered in blood, from head to toe. What an awful sight that were."  
  
"That Frodo Baggins is nothin' but bad luck, I says," voiced Ted Sandyman. "Queer folk, them Bagginses. Always has been and always will be." Sandyman was up from the Bywater mill for his usual lunch. He had parked his walking stick and pack at his feet and was also enjoying a beer.  
  
"Shut yer trap," snapped the innkeeper, shaking his finger at his offending customer. "I'll have no bad talk against Mister Baggins. Not in my establishment. He's a right fine gentlehobbit in my book. Don't you be forgettin' its him and his friends what liberated us from the Lockholes last year."  
  
Chas Limekiln was one of the first hobbits incarcerated during Saruman's occupation of the Shire. He as a strong supporter of Frodo Baggins and his traveling companions, Samwise Gamgee, Meriodoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. Chas had become great friends with Fredigar Bolger, one of Frodo's friends who was also incarcerated in the Micheldelving Lockholds. Master Limekiln brooked no bad-mouthing of the saviors of the Shire.  
  
"Naw, I'll never forget it," grumbled Ted. "It's him and his dim-wit friends what closed up my new mill too."  
  
Ted Sandyman had always disliked Frodo and his buddies. It was a grudge which went back into their tweenage years, and had only grown worse recently. Ted had profited greatly from his association with Saruman and his henchmen after Frodo and his friends had mysteriously vanished one evening while on their way to Crickethollow. Ted's fortunes had swollen under Saruman's tight-fisted but short-lived reign. They had also fallen when Saruman was murdered and the Shirefolk turned against their overlords and collaborators.  
  
Frodo had actually saved Ted Sandyman from the angry hobbit mob during the Rising of the Shire. There was talk of casting Ted out of the Four Farthings in retaliation for his collaboration with the Ruffian Men under Saruman's control. But Frodo had intervened, and Ted was allowed not only to remain in the Shire, but was given back his family's grist mill on the condition that all the new polluting mechanisms be removed and the mill restored to its original function. Ted Sandyman should have been grateful that his life was spared and his dignity restored. But he was not. He resented Frodo and his friends. If there was any way Ted Sandyman could get back at Frodo, he would do it.  
  
"And a good thing they did," replied the innkeeper. "Spewing filth and garbage all over the place. Now Teddy, don't ya think goin' back to the old way of grindin' is better? Your mill is workin' just fine again. Just like it's supposed to. Now let Stuart finish his story without the interruptions."  
  
"Well," said the farm lad, "there's not much more to tell. Old Master Wyncot has gone a bit off the edge. He's burnin' up everything in that death room. Can't says as I blame him though. Everythin' was covered in his son's blood."  
  
"What a horrible way to die," clucked May. "Poor Mistress Wyncot. Not able to even hold her lad as he lay a-dying. What was the doctor thinking? Don't she have no feelings for a poor mother?"  
  
"Well, now, Mistress Wyncot was hysterical-like," Stuart started defending the absent doctor. "I don't think Miss Proudfoot could have done nothin' ta help poor Teddy with his mother all flutterin' about and lecturin' everyone about what to do and whatnot."  
  
"The doc was probably more interested in making a good impression on her beau than in taking care of her duty," Ted sarcastically sniped.  
  
"Why, whatever are you insinuating, Ted Sandyman?" Shandy Merryweather spoke up.  
  
"That Frodo Baggins has been thick as thieves with the new doc, or haven't you noticed?" Ted replied. 'This could be a wonderful way of getting back at that stinking meddling Baggins,' thought Ted.  
  
"He's been sniffin' round her like a bull in heat for a couple months now," he continued, much to May's delight. "I think he's got designs on her, if ya catch my drift. Why, Miss Proudfoot's mind is probably all messed up by now with his outlandish tales of adventure and his strange wanderings about at night and such-like. Sure can't be good for doing medicine."  
  
At that moment Sam walked into the bar, bearing a load of onions Chas Limekiln had ordered for the Inn's kitchen. Sam headed over to the back side of the bar, to deliver the basket of onions and to transact business with Mister Limekiln. Ted's back was to the doorway. Consequently, he was unaware of Sam's entrance. In fact, no one in the little gossip group was aware of Sam's presence. The talk continued unabated.  
  
"She's a fine doctor," Shandy spoke up. Iris had treated him for a dislocated shoulder and he was not going to hear her reputation besmirched this way. "I don't care what you or Mistress Wyncot say. And you mind what you say about her personal life too. 'Tain't none of your business anyway."  
  
Sam looked up at overhearing the word " . doctor." He couldn't make out the rest of the conversation, but he recognized all of the people gathered around Stuart Thigpen. Sam couldn't abide gossip. He tried to ignore it and continued transacting his business with the innkeeper.  
  
"Well it becomes my business if the one and only Hobbiton doctor is running around with that strange Frodo Baggins," Ted snapped. "He's likely to effect her judgment. What was he doing out there at the Wyncot's anyway? He's got no medical training. He's got no training in any profession at all, far as I can tell. Probably did more harm than good out there."  
  
Sam couldn't ignore that one. Overhearing the name "Frodo Baggins" coming out of Ted Sandyman's filthy mouth was more than he could bear. Sam placed the basket of onions on the floor and strode over to the group.  
  
May could see him coming. She quickly backed away, but stayed close enough to overhear whatever was going to be said. Sam and Ted and Stuart had made her day! She would have more than enough to gossip about for weeks to come!  
  
"Mind what you're saying about Master Baggins," Sam warned as he gripped Ted by the shoulders and spun him around in his chair.  
  
"Here! Let go, ya big ox!" Ted shouted as the rest of the group quickly scattered. Chairs tipped over and Stuart's beer was spilled as the gossipers backed away from the two former friends.  
  
Prior to the War, Sam held a reputation for being an nice, easy-going, gentle and somewhat shy hobbit who was easily embarrassed. But his actions during the Rising of the Shire (including ruthlessly killing in close hand- to-hand combat a Ruffian at least twice his size) left no doubt in everyone's mind as to how dangerous and grim he could become at a moment's notice.  
  
And prior to the Quest, Sam had tolerated Ted Sandyman. Sam's easy-going nature prevented him from bad-mouthing anyone, even someone as obviously full-of-themselves as Ted was. Ted had mistaken Sam's tolerance for friendship, much to Sam's dismay. Only after Ted had publicly denigrated Frodo Baggins to Sam's face had he learned the truth. Sam despised the hobbit now in his grasp, and the feeling was mutual.  
  
"Ah! Sam!" Ted choked. "I didn't see ya come in."  
  
"That's nothing a fool couldn't figure out, Sandyman," Sam quietly said as he released his prey. Sam looked past Ted and spoke to Stuart. "Now what's goin' on here?"  
  
"Oh, uh . nothin' Mister Gamgee, sir," sputtered Stuart. "We was just talkin' about poor Teddy Wyncot dyin' yesterday. That's all."  
  
"Master Gamgee - I'll not be having you startin' a brawl in my place now," the innkeeper quietly addressed Sam. "No matter how provoked you get." He had come over from the bar and separated Sam and Ted. "If ya want to see to this little matter, take it outside after we've finished our business."  
  
The innkeeper turned to Sandyman. "And you . Best be leavin' now if you know what's good fer ya. I think you've stirred up a hornet's nest, but that's your business and none of my own."  
  
Ted shot Sam a black look, picked up his walking stick and pack, and shouldered his way out of the circle of on-lookers. In a second he was out the door.  
  
A few of the gossips vanished through various exits. They had no stomach for going against Samwise Gamgee when he was in a foul mood. The rest of the Inn's customers settled back for a quiet, if somewhat nervous, lunch. After finishing transacting his business, Sam retrieved the empty basket and headed outside.  
  
"Couldn't make up yer mind, eh, Sam? Which one's yer wife now, Sammie- lad?"  
  
It was Sandyman again. He was waiting for Sam outside the Inn's round door, brandishing his walking stick and taunting the normally-gentle hobbit.  
  
A small crowd of market goers and some of the gossips from the Inn gathered round. Sam blushed bright crimson, seething with anger at the insults. Hobbittesses with small children quickly shushed them away from the impending fight. Sam narrowed his eyes and stepped out away from the doorway.  
  
"Look, Mister Sandyman, you can bad-mouth me and you can bad-mouth Mister Baggins to yer heart's content," he quietly said, "But you leave my wife out of your filthy talk, or so help me, I'll have at you right here and now."  
  
"Oooo . Hit a nerve, did I?" Ted spat. He hated Sam more than ever. Sam had everything Ted had ever wanted; a fine reputation, the love of his friends, most of Bag End, and now the finest lass in the Shire as his devoted wife. Ted never was one who knew when and how control his mouth.  
  
"Everyone knows you been bangin' Frodo for years," Ted continued the taunting. "Guess with those big blue eyes and lovely lashes he looks real pretty in Rosie's petticoats ."  
  
He never got to finish the insult. Sam dropped the basket and punched Ted straight on the nose.  
  
"Ya fucker! Shiest! Ya broke me nose!" Ted sputtered through the blood streaming down his face.  
  
"I'll break more than yer nose if ya don't lay off bad-mouthing my wife and Mister Frodo, ya hear?" Sam growled and turned his back to retrieve his basket.  
  
That was all it took. Ted lashed out at Sam with his walking stick. The stick struck Sam across his ribs with a loud thwack! Sam felt sharp pain in his side, but ignored it to turn and grab the stick as Ted swung a second time. Evidently, Ted wasn't expecting Sam to react so quickly. Ted was caught off-balance and tumbled to the dirt as Sam jerked the walking stick from his hands. Sam could hear someone scream and call for the doctor, but he ignored that as well.  
  
He straddled Ted's prostrate form lying in the dust and deliberately snapped the stick in two above the frightened hobbit.  
  
"You are a fool and a liar and a stinkin' arse-wipe, you . you . " Sam stuttered in his rage. "Take them hateful words back, you bastard, or I swear, I'll run this stick through a part of you what 'ill hurt so bad ya see stars!" Sam was holding the stick with the broken end directly over Ted's genitals.  
  
"Sam! Samwise Gamgee! Stop it this instant!"  
  
Sam was momentarily distracted by the voice and looked up. "Oh, shiest!" It was Rose. He had forgotten she had come with him to market today. "Shiest! Rose . I . uh ."  
  
"Give me that stick!" Rose immediately demanded. She was standing next to her husband and would brook no nonsense.  
  
Sam obeyed instantly. Hell hath no fury like a wife publicly embarrassed by her husband.  
  
"Thank you dear Rose ." Ted squeaked through the blood.  
  
"You! Shut up!" Rose snapped at Ted, who let out a small 'eep' and promptly lay as still as he could.  
  
A young lass pushed her way through the circle of astounded onlookers, leading Iris Proudfoot to the scene of the crime. Iris had automatically grabbed her medical bag when the youngster had run into her office yelling her head off about a fight and needing a doctor. She stopped short upon seeing who it was.  
  
There stood Sam, sweating up a storm and struggling to breathe. He was holding his left side with his right hand. "Probably a broken rib or two," thought Iris. Rose stood next to Sam, holding a broken walking stick. She was flushed with anger, but didn't look to Iris to be hurt in any way. But the hobbit beneath their feet was definitely hurt. Iris thought she recognized him as Ted Sandyman, the miller, but it was difficult to see his facial features clearly. He was nursing a bloody nose and sniffling in terror.  
  
"Yep, broken nose," Iris thought. "Nothing worse. Good. Let 'em suffer a bit. Teach 'em all a lesson about fighting."  
  
"Back away, please," Iris instructed Sam and Rose. They complied silently. Iris knelt down next to Ted to begin her ministrations, but he shrank away from her.  
  
"Get her away from me!" he shrieked. "I don't want her doin' nothin' to me. She kilt Ted Wyncot and she'll kill me too! Don't you touch me, you South Farthing witch!"  
  
The viciousness and unexpectedness of the accusation struck Iris like a knife to the gut, and sent a wave of shock through the crowd. The throng started whispering amongst itself. Iris could hear the questions and feel the looks.  
  
"Try to remain calm," she silently instructed her near-panicked mind. "Don't let it get to you." She took a couple of deep breaths and turned back towards Ted.  
  
"I will not touch you if you refuse treatment," she said.  
  
"You bastard!" Sam growled, taking a step back towards the prostrate hobbit. Rose grabbed Sam's arm and ended up jostling his tender ribs. "Shiest, Rose! Damn that hurts!"  
  
"Well, don't be stupid and I'll let ya go!" Rose snapped back. "Your Gaffer raised ya better than to take that fool's bait. Now, Sam, leave 'em be!"  
  
Iris had risen to her feet. Ted did so as well, backing away from the doctor and moving through the crowd, cursing Sam, Rose, Iris and Frodo as he went.  
  
"Are you going to refuse treatment too?" Iris bluntly asked Sam. "I can call the Apothecary or the Midwife if you prefer."  
  
Rose was shocked. What in the world had gotten into the doctor? Sam was equally confused. Why hadn't she repudiated Ted Sandyman's accusation?  
  
"Damn it, Iris," Sam panted, "of course I want you to treat me."  
  
"Well, come on into the office, please, Mister Gamgee," Iris woodenly said as she turned her back to the couple and pushed her was through the crowd.  
  
"You'll pay for this, Samwise Gamgee!" a muffled voice could be heard. It was Ted. "Watch yourself around that witch though. She's killed one young lad already." 


	8. Lavender & Roses

Chapter 8 Title: Lavender and Roses Chapter rating: PG  
  
Frodo awoke with the late morning sunshine in his eyes. He had forgotten to pull the thick midnight blue curtains shut before retiring and now he was squinting into the shaft of light filtering into his bedroom.  
  
"Botheration," he sourly thought, "Might as well get up."  
  
The smial was quiet and still. The only sound came from bees buzzing in the flower gardens outside the open windows, the song of birds, and the faint far-off laughter of children playing in the meadows back behind Bag End Hill. Frodo got dressed and padded into the kitchen.  
  
Rose had left him a light breakfast on a little plate covered with a gossamer cloth. Frodo peeked under to find a slice of cheese and a hard roll, along with an apple and some fresh raspberries in a small bowl. He left the raspberries, but took up the plate and headed outside into the garden.  
  
Sam's ministrations to the famous Bag End Gardens had produced an exceptional showcase of common and exotic flowers this year. Hollyhocks of every hue reared their lovely stalks high above Frodo's head as he settled into the little stone bench set against the garden wall. He had to brush aside vigorous snapdragons and a riot of yellow, orange and salmon nasturtiums before he could sit down. Flowers of all shapes, sizes and colors waged their own silent war in competition for the attention of bees, butterflies, moths and small birds. A lark fluttered into the lilac bush and burst into a glorious territorial song.  
  
Frodo balanced the little earthenware platter on his knees and munched his belated breakfast, drinking in the sunshine and smiling to himself. A tiny hummingbird zipped into view, momentarily hovered in front of Frodo, and then flashed away in a glint of metallic green and red. Frodo followed its movements through the flower garden and into the kitchen herbs. He lost it somewhere in the midst of the lavender and chives.  
  
"Lavender," he mused, "Iris loves lavender. She always smells faintly of lavender."  
  
The more Frodo thought about the events of the past 24 hours, the more upset he became. "Sam had no right to lecture me that way," he thought. "It's not as if he and Rose never made love before, er . well, on second thought, perhaps they never had before they were married. After all, Sam is quite a few years younger than I. But Sam did not even let me finish explaining before he interrupted."  
  
He set the plate aside and munched on the apple, letting his gaze travel up into the late morning sky. Puffy clouds sailed lazily toward the West, powered by an invisible breeze. The Shire was beautiful, thanks to Sam's replanting and the precious gift of soil from Galadriel.  
  
"I could stay out here forever," Frodo contentedly thought. His injuries and hardships during the Quest faded into the background of his thoughts - troubling thoughts which he found increasingly hard to push out of his mind. But Sam's lavish garden brought peace to Frodo, at least for the present.  
  
"I need to talk to Iris," he sighed. "I know she was upset at her patient's death, but she should not be alone to have to go through dealing with it. And despite what Sam said, I am certain that our love-making did more good than harm."  
  
Frodo reluctantly stood up and retrieved his plate, taking it into the kitchen. He put away the raspberries and washed up his breakfast plate. Bilbo had drilled a meticulous nature into his heir, and Frodo tried to keep a neat and always-presentable house no matter what time of day. Of course, having Sam and Rose move into Bag End had changed that somewhat, but he still tried to maintain a tidy home.  
  
Frodo retrieved his coat and wetted down his handkerchief before heading out the door. Once outside he took a little detour through the gardens. Using one of Sam's pruning shears, he snipped a bunch of lavender and some of the late-blooming roses and wrapped them into a bouquet in the handkerchief. "She should like these," he thought as he started off at a brisk clip down Bag End Row and into Hobbiton.  
  
He couldn't help himself. The glorious weather had put him into a tremendously good mood. Frodo whistled a jaunty little tune as he approached the market square, floral bouquet in hand. He was heading towards the Physician's Office when he noticed something was not quite right.  
  
People in the market place were staring at him and whispering behind their hands. Small groups quickly formed and the gossip continued. A few guiltily looked away when he caught their eye. Some openly gawked at him holding the bouquet.  
  
"What's going on?" Frodo thought. He felt as if he was the butt of some joke, only he was not aware of the joke.  
  
"Good day, Mister Baggins," a hobbit at a fruit stand called out. Frodo smiled and called out his 'Good day to you, sir' as was polite, but he couldn't quite remember the hobbit's name. How did he know his name?  
  
Frodo dismissed the market scene as he went inside the door to the Physician's Office. The little doorbells tinkled a cheery greeting as he pulled the door shut. No one was in the waiting area, so Frodo tiptoed into the hallway and peeked around the corner. The door to the combination examination and surgery room was closed, indicating that Iris was with a patient at the moment. Frodo was about to turn around and wait in the front room when he overheard a familiar voice coming from behind the surgery door.  
  
"Ow! Don't you think that's a bit tight, Doc?" It was Sam's voice. He sounded like he was in some pain, but not dreadfully so.  
  
Frodo's curiosity got the better of his judgment. He crept to the door and listened. He could hear Sam's heavy breathing. There was some shuffling sounds, then .  
  
"Sam, if you don't keep still she'll have to do it again, and I'm late enough as it is."  
  
That was Rose, and from the tone of her voice she sounded fairly put-out with her husband. Before Frodo could do anything the door suddenly opened. He practically fell into Rose's arms, scattering the flowers into the hallway.  
  
"Mister Frodo!" a surprised Rose exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing here?"  
  
The sight which greeted Frodo was one he had not expected. Sam, stripped of his shirt, was holding his arms straight out from his body and was having his ribs tightly bound with bandages. A rather large purple-blue bruise showed from under the wrappings. Sam looked rather startled to see Frodo standing in the doorway, looking in from behind Rose. Iris looked up from her work and frowned at Frodo.  
  
"Rose, please shut the door," the doctor quietly said, and went back to tending her patient.  
  
"Uh, hello Mister Frodo" was all Frodo heard from Sam before Rose exited and closed the door behind her. That left the two of them in the hallway. It was awkward, to say the least. Rose crossed her arms and cocked her head. She was waiting for an answer.  
  
"Hello Rose," he began as he gathered up the scattered blooms.  
  
"Right. Let's drop the formalities and get to business, shall we?" Rose snapped. "Why are you eaves-dropping in the doctor's office?"  
  
"I am terribly embarrassed," Frodo stammered. "Please accept my apologies. I came over to see Iris ." he held up the flowers as evidence, ". and overheard Sam's voice. I am sorry about the eaves-dropping, Rose. I did not overhear anything, truly. But is he alright? The folk in the market place gave me the strangest looks as I came into town. Does Sam's injuries have anything to do with that? Did I say or do anything wrong?"  
  
Rose couldn't help but feel her sour mood soften at his words. He sounded so innocent of any wrong-doing, and so concerned about Sam. Well, he might as well find out what happened from a friend rather than from a stranger. Rose decided to tell Frodo about the fight between Sam and Ted Sandyman. She walked him back into the front waiting room and proceeded to explain what had happened at the Green Dragon Inn and outside in the market square.  
  
Frodo's visage darkened at the mention of Ted Sandyman's name. He shook his head in frustration when Rose narrated how Sandyman had accused the doctor of killing the Wyncot lad, and had refused treatment for his broken nose, calling Iris a witch. All this in front of the entire market place population. This rumor would be difficult, if not impossible, to contain.  
  
"But the strangest thing is how Iris is acting," Rose concluded in a whisper. "She's not herself, if I do say so. This whole business with the Wyncot lad dying has affected her terribly. She won't talk unless spoken to, and . well . it's not for me to say, but I think she's lost confidence in herself. And what good's a doctor who doesn't believe in her abilities?"  
  
Rose placed her hand on Frodo's shoulder. "I'm awfully glad you're here for her. Sam's just about done in there, so we'll be leaving. I do hope you can talk some sense into Miss Proudfoot's head, and convince her that she's needed here. I sure don't want to see her leave because of some fool rumors that nasty Sandyman's spreading."  
  
They both stood up as they heard the sound of footfalls coming up the hallway. Sam appeared, fully clothed and looking none the worse for wear, other than favoring his left side slightly. Iris was nowhere to be seen.  
  
"Hello, Frodo," Sam sheepishly smiled. He figured Rose would have told his friend everything by now.  
  
"Hello yourself, Sam," Frodo replied. "Acting more like a Brandybuck than a Gamgee, I hear. I'm going to have to start calling you Captain Meriodoc if you keep this sort of behavior up. I cannot fathom how you managed to go to Mordor and back without any serious injuries, yet you let Ted Sandyman whip the tar out of you once you get back to the Shire!" Frodo couldn't help himself and he broke into a grin. He just had to rub it in.  
  
"Well, now, I gave better than I took, if you know what I mean," Sam laughed, but then sobered up upon seeing Rose's frown. "Ah, now lass . " he spoke to her, "we're just talking here. Pay us no nevermind."  
  
"You two are impossible," Rose said.  
  
"At least one of us is," Frodo answered, "and you married him." He suddenly became serious. "Sam, I am disappointed that you got into a fight over harsh words said by Sandyman. You should not let him goad you that way, you know. Now he is going to use this against us; against Iris particularly. You know Ted will do just about anything to hurt me, and that includes ruining the reputation of my friends."  
  
"That's fine for you to say, sir," Sam scowled, "but it weren't your wife's honor he was impugning. And I'll not stand for anyone to say a word again' my Rose. Not him. Not even you, although I know you wouldn't even think such a dishonorable thing."  
  
Frodo smiled. "When you put it that way, I can see why you hit him in the nose. But that does not change the fact that he now has a weapon to use against us - the weapon of rumor and innuendo concerning Iris. He will run her out of town if he can. We must do everything in our power to stop that, but at this moment I do not see how."  
  
"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," Rose said. "Right now we need to get home, and you need to find Iris."  
  
"Agreed," Frodo nodded. "I do not know when I shall return to Bag End. But Sam - please do not haul off and hit anyone else for awhile. I need you to think with your head and not with your temper. Promise?"  
  
"I promise," Sam said as he and Rose headed out the door. With its closing, Frodo was again alone in the waiting room. Where was Iris? 


	9. Midnight Paisley

Chapter 9 Title: Midnight Paisley Chapter rating: PG  
  
"Iris?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Frodo peeked down the hallway. The door separating the Physician's Offices from her private residential rooms was closed. "She must have gone back into her home after Sam left," he thought.  
  
Frodo went to the front door and flipped the "Open" sign back to "Please ring bells in case of emergencies," and locked the door. He gathered up his bunch of lavender and roses, rewrapped them in his still-damp handkerchief, and boldly walked through the hallway door and into Iris's private residence.  
  
Strong noon sunlight puddled along the polished wooden floors of the hallway and into the residence through an open door in the back of the house. She was sitting on the grey stone stoop of the doorway, her back towards the interior, her gaze directed out into the green medical gardens beyond the stoop.  
  
Frodo quietly walked down the hallway and stopped just behind Iris. She did not look around or give any indication that she knew he was there, but he could sense she was well aware of his presence and was simply choosing to ignore him. She was dressed in one of her usual outfits - a white long sleeved blouse and matching dark green bodice and skirt. But she had allowed her wild brown curls to remain loose and free instead of being platted into a single braid which she normally pinned up into a bun at the back of her head. The loose hair made her look a bit informal and rather rustic - more like a country farm lass than the professional physician she was.  
  
Frodo sat down behind her, placing his legs on either side of her hips and scooting up so that his chest was against her back. She did not move. With his right hand he reached around and pulled her against himself, and with his left he presented her with the flowers.  
  
Neither said a word as she tentatively accepted the peace offering. Frodo's now-empty left hand replaced his right as he held Iris in a tight embrace around her waist. She buried her nose in the fragrant blue and pink bouquet as he used his right hand to sweep aside her hair. His lips brushed the back of her neck. She sighed and fully leaned back into his embrace. His mouth moved onto her ear tip, then back to her neck. They sat together, looking out into the herb garden, content to let the moment happen unhurried.  
  
"You have to fight the rumors, you know," Frodo whispered. "I cannot afford to loose you. If you leave, you will take my heart, and I cannot bear that thought."  
  
Iris set aside the flowers. "I don't know what to do," she softly confessed. "I don't want to leave. But how can the people trust me now?"  
  
Frodo placed both arms around her waist, hugging her tightly to himself. "Have you had lunch yet?"  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. "He can be so fickle sometimes," she thought.  
  
"It is part of my plan," he said. "Well, have you had lunch already today?"  
  
"No. I have not felt like eating," Iris said, still confused. "What plan?"  
  
"The plan to stop these rumors in their tracks and get you back to normal, Miss Proudfoot," Frodo said as he stood up and helped her to her feet. He was relieved to see that she had not been crying, and seemed to be in control of her emotions once again. That would make things easier.  
  
She turned to face him, still clutching the floral bouquet in her hand. Frodo cradled her face in his right hand, and they kissed while standing in the golden sunshine. She was still tentative in letting him past her emotional barriers, so the kiss was rather chaste. But Frodo did not mind. He would see to correcting that misunderstanding later. Love is patient.  
  
"Come," he said, "We need to get you out in public as soon as possible. The sooner people see you going about your normal business, the sooner they can ascertain the truth to what Sandyman said this morning, and the sooner they can make up their own minds that he is a fool and a liar. The more you talk to people, the more we are seen together in public as a couple, the more foolish his accusations appear."  
  
"What do you propose, Mister Baggins?" she demurely asked. But her words belied her sly smile. This formal name-calling was a little word game the two played.  
  
"Ah," he thought, "that's better. That's more like yourself talking now."  
  
"Lunch at the Green Dragon Inn," Frodo said.  
  
"But . but that's where the gossip group is," she protested.  
  
"Exactly," he smiled as they went into the kitchen. Frodo retrieved a vase from a shelf, filled it with water and plopped the flowers into the receptacle. "Let us confront the enemy where he lives and defuse the situation at its source. After lunch we visit all the little shops in Hobbiton, plus the vendors in market square. I advise you answer any questions put to you as honestly as you can, although I suspect most folk will be far too polite to come out and say anything to our faces. And some may surprise you."  
  
"Alright then," she acquiesced. "I'm game, as long as you're beside me."  
  
"Always, my love," he smiled, and tried another, deeper kiss. This one was tentatively answered.  
  
How could she resist his deep blue eyes and seductively adventurous nature? "At least let me get my hair in order first," she begged. "I want to look my best before my jurors."  
  
Iris quickly platted her hair and put it up into its customary bun. As if on cue, a stray curl came undone and floated in front of her ear. Frodo pinched off a single pink rosebud from the bouquet and used it to secure the wayward curl back into the plat.  
  
"As co-conspirator, I think you need to look the part too," she said as she also pinched off a rosebud. She placed it into a buttonhole on his coat. "Shall we go?" :::::::::::::::::::::::: The Green Dragon Inn was abuzz with townsfolk. Some were in for a late lunch, but most were there for the ale and gossip. Chas Limekiln, the inn's proprietor, was having a difficult time keeping up with drink orders, seeing as how he had not anticipated any extra crowds and was short-handed. He had sent off one of the dishwashers to bring in an extra lass to help. Everyone wanted beer and talk.  
  
The room suddenly became quiet as a couple walked into the crowded bar. Frodo and Iris looked around the room, seeking out an empty table. Chas noticed their entrance, and elbowed his way over to them.  
  
"Master Baggins and Doctor Proudfoot!" he exclaimed, "So good of you to come in. Please, please, let me get you a table. I assume you'll be wantin' lunch?"  
  
"Yes, please, Mister Limekiln," Frodo replied, not taking his eyes off the crowd and keeping one hand on Iris's shoulder. Iris was a bit intimidated, but smiled at the friendly barkeep.  
  
"Always good to have the former Deputy Mayor and the town Physician brighten the doors of my establishment," Chas announced rather loudly as he shouldered his way into the crowd and over to an occupied table in the middle of the room. "Here now. You folk don't mind moving to the bar, now do you?"  
  
The four lads sitting at the table quickly grabbed their beers and vacated. The barkeep wiped the table clean and seated Frodo and Iris with great ceremony.  
  
"Lunch is on the house for you two," he said. "What can I get ya?"  
  
"No need for the special treatment, Master Limekiln," Iris said. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.  
  
"Nay, lass," the proprietor protested. "I consider it the least I can do to make up for what happened here this morn. And call me Chas. Just want ya to know you've got friends in Hobbiton, and we don't want ya paying any mind to that idiot from Bywater. Now, what can I get you two? I know you didn't get to finish your dinner the last time you were here. Same as last time? Steak and kidney pie with a house ale, right?"  
  
"That will be fine, thank you very much," Frodo said with a smile. "And thanks for the vote of confidence, Chas."  
  
"My pleasure, Mister Baggins."  
  
A few patrons came up to Iris and Frodo during their lunch and offered encouraging words. The rest of the crowd were content to leave the couple alone. A small gaggle of gossips occasionally glanced at the table, then continued their whispering.  
  
After lunch, Frodo and Iris headed out on their very public rounds. They visited the woodworker's shop, the baker's establishment, and even the blacksmith's shop. A few people stopped and stared as they passed from one business to another, but most politely said their "hellos" and wished them a good day.  
  
Most of the crowd had dispersed from the market square by the time they made their way through the little commercial stalls. Iris was tiring of all the small talk, but Frodo, ever the consummate peacemaker politician, insisted on greeting each and every vendor in the market. A few were somewhat rude, but the vast majority were polite. After finishing their walk through the market place, Frodo insisted on visiting the Hobbiton Tailor Shop as their final visit.  
  
It was late afternoon when they passed through the entrance to the tailor's institution. The little shop's wind chimes affixed to the front door tinkled a merry tune as the door slowly closed behind them. Frodo had been to the tailor's business often and was well acquainted with Mistress Chiswell. She had been tailor for the elder Master Bilbo Baggins for many years before Frodo came to Bag End, and had taken the younger Master Baggins under her wings for all his clothes. Iris had never been inside a tailor's shop before. All her clothes were home-made.  
  
"Well, young Master Baggins! What a pleasant surprise!" the elderly hobbitess beamed with pleasure. "And you, miss. You must be the new doctor."  
  
"Yes mam," Iris delicately replied.  
  
"Iris Proudfoot, may I introduce you to Mistress Lidia Chiswell, Hobbiton's tailor and probably the finest tailor the Shire has ever produced," Frodo said.  
  
"Very pleased to meet you, Mistress Chiswell," Iris curtsied to her elder and smiled.  
  
"Wonderful, wonderful. Now, what may I do for you, Master Baggins?" Lidia said.  
  
"I would like to commission a new dress for Doctor Proudfoot, if you please," Frodo said as he settled back into the wooden bench set up against the front window. He had seen his Uncle Bilbo do this many times when he was commissioning a new suit for his heir. It felt good to finally be the one sitting on the bench instead of the one being measured for the new suit.  
  
"What?" Iris stammered.  
  
"And I want you to use your finest fabric. Something lovely and silky and very rich," he continued. "Something which will compliment her beautiful green eyes." Frodo smiled wickedly and made a great show of delicately sniffing at the rosebud in his lapel buttonhole.  
  
"Mister Baggins!" Iris hissed. "You will commission no such thing!"  
  
"Now, now, Iris," he crossed his legs in front and settled back into the bench's cushions, "I am going to replace that dress that you ruined the other night while on that house call, and I shall not take no for an answer." He turned to the tailor. "Could I see a selection of your finest cloth, please?"  
  
"Very good, Master Baggins," Lidia said. "Doctor Proudfoot, mam? Would you please step back behind the curtain? I'll get Heili to measure you while I present the fabric to young Master Baggins."  
  
Before Iris could protest, she was whisked away for her measurements as Mistress Chiswell disappeared into the back to retrieve the bolts of fabric. Frodo chuckled at his cleverness, dug out his pipe from his coat pocket, filled it, and lighted it for a quick smoke. The room was soon filled with bolt after bolt of rich fabrics of all shades, hues and patterns. He selected a midnight blue small paisley print pattern of a luxuriously tight brushed cotton weave.  
  
"Quite lovely, sir," Mistress Chiswell clucked. "And will the doctor be needing a blouse as well?"  
  
"Yes, indeed she will," Frodo agreed. "Something soft and white, please. Oh, and would you please make me a matching vest out of the same blue paisley fabric? You do still have my measurements?"  
  
"Why, yes, of course we do, Master Baggins," the tailor said, "but are you sure you want me to make your vest out of the same fabric? 'Tis a bit lightweight for a gentlehobbit's vest."  
  
"I definitely want the vest made out of the same material," Frodo said. "Do what you need to do to make it work, but I want to pick up a matched set the next time I come by. And thank you so much for indulging me in this." He pressed some coins into the proprietress's palm, and she smiled her delight.  
  
Iris stepped out from behind the curtain, her dignity in tact, but her emotions a bit ruffled.  
  
"You are most welcome anytime, Master Baggins," Mistress Chiswell called out. "And a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Proudfoot. I shall be calling you in for a fitting later next week."  
  
Iris mumbled her goodbyes as they left the establishment. She turned to Frodo and practically jumped down his throat.  
  
"What was that all about?"  
  
"I told you we needed to be seen in public as a couple," he replied. "This will help identify us as such."  
  
"Well that's great, but you could have let me in on that part of your little plan, don't you think?" Iris grumbled. "Are you sure people won't think we're twins? I can't believe you ordered me a dress, much less ordering yourself a matching vest. What do you think I am? Your wife?"  
  
Frodo stopped dead in his tracks as they reached the Physician's Office door and pulled Iris to his side. "Would you like to be my wife?" 


	10. Reckoning

Chapter 10 Title: Reckoning Chapter rating: G  
  
"Your honor, I demand that Doctor Proudfoot pay for what she did to my lad, Teddy!"  
  
"Now, now, Mistress Wyncot. Let us not be hasty." Mayor Will Whitfoot was having trouble controlling the angry hobbitess walking through his cheery yellow-painted doorway. The Mayor's wife, Amanda, ushered Mirabell Wyncot and her husband into the little parlor off to the left of the entrance hall, then disappeared to fix a pot of tea for their guests.  
  
Rudy Wyncot and his wife had traveled into Hobbiton that morning specifically to see the Mayor. Mirabell had insisted that the doctor be censured for causing her son's death, but her husband was reluctant to support this claim. However, he would stand by his wife as she filed her official complaint with the Mayor.  
  
"I want her removed from practicing medicine and I want it now!" Mistress Wyncot demanded. "She's not fit to be seein' sick folk. Look what she did to my poor little Ted. Why, her incompetence killed 'im, that's what it did." The Wyncots took their seats in the leather chairs beside the Mayor's work desk.  
  
"Mistress and Master Wyncot," the Mayor began as he settled himself behind his stacks of papers and inkwells, "may I first offer my heart-felt condolences in the loss of your son. It grieved me to learn of his untimely accident and death. I am so very sorry for you and your family."  
  
"Thank ye, sir," said the middle-aged farmer, bowing slightly as was the proper thing to do when addressing the Mayor.  
  
The Mayor's wife came into the little formal parlor, bearing a lacquered tray with a tea service for four upon it. She smiled sweetly at her husband's guests, and when their social needs were seen-to, she quietly slipped into the little wooden chair beside her husband and took up a pad of paper and quill. Amanda Whitfoot often acted as her husband's secretary for his official Mayoral duties. She had been at market in Hobbiton and had witnessed the altercation between Samwise Gamgee and Ted Sandyman, and had heard Sandyman's accusation of the doctor. She had also overheard the rumors of Ted Wyncot's death. Mayor Whitfoot had been expecting to receive a visit from the Wyncots as soon as the funeral was over.  
  
"Mistress Wyncot," the Mayor continued, "you levy serious accusations against Doctor Proudfoot. I have no wish to initiate anything official until we have had time to let emotions settle and the facts surface."  
  
"My emotions are perfectly fine, thank you very much," Mrs. Wyncot snapped. Her husband's eyebrows arched upwards, almost crawling off his forehead, but he said nothing which might further upset his rather volatile wife. "I want to see that so-called doctor stopped from practicing here. She's a menace to folk. She killed my lad and I'll have satisfaction for it!"  
  
"I am terribly sorry to have to ask you some questions, but surely you understand that I must do so in order to investigate what happened," the Mayor quietly said. "I understand there was an accident first before the doctor was called in. Is this correct?"  
  
"Yes," Farmer Wyncot replied. "Young Ted fell and broke his poor arm. It were a bad break. Bone stickin' out an such. He bled quite a lot afore we got him inside and I ran fer doctor."  
  
"But he was fine otherwise," Mirabell interrupted. "Talkin' and awake and all."  
  
The Mayor addressed the farmer. "Did you find the doctor once you came into Hobbiton?"  
  
"Not right at first," he replied. "She were out ta supper, but she left note on the door. I found her at the Inn, like note said. She and Master Baggins."  
  
"And how did the doctor react to the news of your son's terrible accident?" the Mayor continued his questioning.  
  
"Why, she left dinner," Rudy said. "Went back ta office to get her bag and such. Then we came back ta home."  
  
"Not fast enough, if you ask me," Mirabell again interrupted.  
  
"Once there, what actions did the doctor perform?" the Mayor asked.  
  
"Nothing! She did nothing for the longest time!" Mirabell sobbed. "My poor lad lying there bleeding and all and she did nothing! I told her to do something, but instead she has that beau of hers, that Mad Baggins feller, throw me out of the room!"  
  
"Now, Mother," Rudy gently said, "Thou knows that weren't the full truth." He turned and addressed the Mayor. "Me and me lad, Jack, and Master Baggins were told to take Mirabell out ta room, sos doctor could do her duty. Me wife were a bit upset."  
  
"I was fine!" Mirabell huffed. "Ted was fine! He was talking. And they sent me out of the room. I never saw my lad alive again." Her husband pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to his wife as she began to weep.  
  
"There now, there now, Mistress Wyncot," Amanda Whitfoot put down her writing utensils and patted the distraught hobbitess on the knee. "It's hard loosing such a fine lad as Ted. We are all so very sorry. Shall I get you a fresh handkerchief, dear?"  
  
"No," Mirabell hiccupped slightly. "I . Oh, my poor Teddy." She sighed and was able to control herself after a few moments.  
  
The Mayor began again. "I am terribly sorry to have to continue these questions. If they are too upsetting for you, we could do this at a later time."  
  
"No, no," Rudy replied, "Best get it over with now."  
  
"We'll continue on from that point," the Mayor said. "I take it neither of you were actually in the room to witness what the doctor did or did not do for your lad, correct?"  
  
"That's right, yer honor," Rudy said. "Me eldest, Jack, were there, helpin' Master Baggins hold down young Ted during treatment. Jack said doctor couldna control Ted's bleeding."  
  
"She forced our Teddy to drink something too," Mirabell said. "Something horrible. I think it killed him, cause Jack says Teddy passed out within a minute of drinkin' it, and then he died shortly thereafter." Mirabell began to cry again. Rudy placed his arms around his wife's shoulders and looked at the Mayor.  
  
"Well, now, I think that will be all I need," Mister Whitfoot said as he stood up. Rudy raised his weeping wife to her feet, then shook hands with the Mayor.  
  
"Thank ye kindly for lookin' inta this matter for us," Rudy said. "I'm for not goin' any farther, myself. But Mirabell thinks doctor didn't do right for our lad. What's ta be done, yer honor, sir?"  
  
"I shall have to interview Doctor Proudfoot and Mister Baggins and get their views on what happened," the Mayor said as he walked the sorrowful couple to the front door. "I shall let you know the outcome of that meeting. But, Master Wyncot, I must confess that I might not be the best person for hearing this case. I must say that I cannot be entirely unbiased here. Mister Baggins and his friends rescued me from my incarceration in the Lockholes during the Troubles. The doctor nursed me back to health afterwards, and I am quite partial to her. If there is to be an official investigation, we will need to bring in an impartial arbiter from outside the Hobbiton and Bywater areas. Word will spread all over the Shire. Your family's sorrows will be talked about, just as surely as the doctor's is right now. Is that what you want? Think carefully about it."  
  
"Of course that's what we want," Mirabell snapped through her tears. Her husband sorrowfully shook his head, but did not dispute his wife.  
  
"All right. I shall continue my investigations. Again, please accept my deepest condolences on your loss," the Mayor said.  
  
"Thank ye," the farmer said as they walked through the doorway and into the afternoon sunshine.  
  
"Will? What are you going to do?" Amanda asked as she quietly shut the front door and retrieved the tea service.  
  
"Looks like we shall have to pay a visit to Miss Proudfoot tomorrow, Amanda," he replied as he followed her into their kitchen, leaning on his cane. "Do you mind, dear?"  
  
"Of course not, love," she smiled. "But if you cannot judge the case, who will you get?"  
  
"I shall have to send for someone who has medical knowledge, but is not from the area. Someone not closely associated with Miss Proudfoot or the Wyncots or Frodo Baggins. Hmmm . We could ask the Micheldelving physician to look into the matter and tell us whether our doctor acted appropriately or not. What's his name, Amanda? You know. the one that teaches the other Shire physicians."  
  
"Havloc, dear," Amanda said as she cleaned the tea service. "Doctor Thumo Havloc, I believe."  
  
"That's the one. Thumo Havloc. We shall have to send for him." 


	11. Enigma Variation

Chapter 11 Title: Enigma Variation Chapter rating: R (sexual situations)  
  
Frodo stopped dead in his tracks as they reached the Physician's Office door and pulled Iris to his side. "Would you like to be my wife?"  
  
"Oh, do stop teasing me like that, Frodo Baggins," Iris pushed him aside and opened the front door. "You should know better than to ask that sort of question to an unmarried spinster. You sound like a fifteen year old with a crush rather than a fifty year old confirmed bachelor."  
  
"I am fifty-two, soon to be fifty-three, thank you very much, Miss Proudfoot," he replied, following her into the office and pulling the little door shut. The physician's offices were warm and bright as the late afternoon sunlight filtered through the dusty front windows. All inside was quiet and still.  
  
"Well, you still act like you are fifteen," Iris said as she drew the curtains closed inside the waiting room and started down the hallway. "I appreciate the commissioning of the new dress, but really! You better not be seen anywhere near me wearing that matching vest. I would be so embarrassed! Only children are dressed in matching outfits, and mostly twins and mostly against their will. Whatever got into your mind?"  
  
Frodo put out his hand and stopped Iris as she entered the long center hallway leading back towards her private residence. "You," he said.  
  
"What?" she turned to face him, confused.  
  
"You are in my mind," he softy said as his right hand caressed her face in the dusky air. "I think about you constantly. I love you, you know." Her back was against the hallway wall and she gazed into his smoky eyes. Frodo had been contemplating getting Iris alone all afternoon after their good- will walk through the Hobbiton business district.  
  
She looked so lovely and calm; so reassuring and stable. Exactly what he wanted and needed. Someone to counterbalance the remembered pain and torment of the Ring. Someone who could bring peace and harmony to his mind. Someone to fill the void left by the destruction of that cursed Ring.  
  
He leaned forward to kiss her, and was surprised when she turned her face to one side, deftly avoiding his lips.  
  
"Iris, is something wrong?" he asked, quite perplexed.  
  
"Frodo," she almost whispered, "I'm sorry." She was blushing and looked away from his eyes and down towards his chest. "I'm sorry. I .. I've had some time to think about things after going out to the Wyncots. And, well .. I don't think I can afford to fall in love with a patient." He could see the tears beginning to form in her eyes.  
  
"Iris," he said, his voice husky with longing, "it is far too late for that." He tipped her chin up so that she was again looking into his deep blue eyes. They smoldered with desire. Her own body exposed the lie of her words. Frodo could see the pupils in her green, green eyes enlarge with her own desire. Her lips were full and ripe, slightly parted as she struggled to control her suddenly ragged breathing.  
  
Iris could feel his desire and need as Frodo pressed his hips against hers, pinning her to the wall. She could feel his body against hers, a hard reminder of pleasures to be given and received. She could not control her own reactions. She was emotionally unprepared and allowed him to kiss her this time as her arms unconsciously slid around his waist to caress his back and buttocks, pulling him closer.  
  
He had his right hand in her curly hair as the kiss deepened. Iris was dimly aware of his left hand against the small of her back, his graceful fingers urging her hips and stomach to crush against his. His tongue teased her swollen lips open, eager to taste her mouth and encourage her own tongue into action. His insistent mouth closed over her lower lip and sucked it lightly. Iris sighed and could not suppress the urge to grind her body against his.  
  
She tilted her head up towards the ceiling as Frodo kissed and nibbled down from her mouth to her gleaming throat. His right hand had moved from her brown hair to lightly caressing her left breast, his thumb gently rubbing against her aroused nipple. It was all so sensuous, the kisses and caresses coming in waves. He was going to engulf her; consume her; like a wildfire consuming a parched pasture, or like the swollen Brandywine consuming its banks after a deluge.  
  
Suddenly Iris was afraid. Afraid of Frodo - of his passion and his need and his desire to consume her. She really didn't know this hobbit of the legends and stories. She had not known him before the Ring; before the Quest; before his injuries. Iris could not suppress a slight shudder.  
  
Frodo hesitated, sensing a change in her passion. He could see the slight panic in her eyes. She could hide nothing from him. He was very good at reading people, and he clearly saw fear where no fear should be.  
  
He cleared his suddenly tight throat, himself now afraid of what he might hear. "Iris, what is wrong?" He hated asking the question, fearing its answer, but they had reached an impasse.  
  
"Oh, Frodo," she said as she cupped his face in her hand, "I'm so sorry. But, I . I . Oh stars, how can I say this? I really don't know you. You're not like other hobbits I've met."  
  
He turned away in embarrassment. "Damn," he whispered, "it always comes to this."  
  
"Oh, Frodo, please," she pleaded, reaching out a hand to him. "That didn't come out the way I meant it."  
  
"Well, how did you mean it?" Frodo sadly said. He took her hands in his, and they both noticed the missing ring finger of his right hand. "I am not like other hobbits. I cannot help my nature, Iris. I was different before going on the Quest, and I am certainly changed as a result of it." He looked at her, wanting her to understand. Willing the silence and space between them to collapse into understanding and acceptance.  
  
"You are afraid of me, aren't you?" he quietly said, softly stroking her hand. "Everyone in the Shire is afraid of me, except Sam and Merry and Pippin. Oh, the people in the Shire are all polite, but they do not invite me to tea, or to meet their daughters, or over for social engagements. People are afraid of what they do not understand and I am an enigma to them."  
  
"Then help me understand," she pleaded. Iris brought his maimed hand up to her lips, and gently kissed the stump where his ring finger used to reside. "I shan't be afraid if you help me understand."  
  
Frodo hesitated for an instant, then led her into the examination room. He closed the door to the hallway and opened up all the curtains to let in as much light as possible. The room was flooded with the golden sunlight of late afternoon. Iris was unsure as to what Frodo was going to do as he began to disrobe. She flushed with embarrassment as he stripped, placed his clothes on the examination table, and stood in front of her totally nude and completely vulnerable. He had even taken off the small white gem he wore on a thin silver chain, something she had never seen him do. She had seen him naked before, of course. Either as part of a medical examination, or during one of their few intimate encounters. But this was different. This was total honesty, it was brutal, and it was directed at himself. It shamed Iris to the core.  
  
"Come and see," he beckoned, "my history is written on my body. I try to hide the hideous scars from others, so that they are not made uncomfortable in seeing me. That is why I wear long sleeved shirts and vests even in summer. Why I keep my hair long. Why I avoid shaking hands. But I shall not hide myself from you. I will explain each and every scar, each and every step to and from Mordor, so that you might understand."  
  
Iris felt a tear trickle down her cheek, but she ignored it. Frodo appeared as an injured ivory statue, enveloped in the golden light, his arms held out slightly away from his sides, inviting her to examine and question. He slowly turned around, revealing scars she knew quite well and some she had never noticed before. He was beautiful, and he was flawed. She removed her own clothing and joined him in the light.  
  
"Forgive me," she said. "I doubted my heart." She stepped into his outstretched arms, enfolding him in her own. His arms closed about her body, and they stood locked in a tender and finally tension-free embrace. She nuzzled his neck and tenderly kissed the cold white scar on his left shoulder. He closed his eyes, sighed, and moved his left hand to stroke her buttocks and back, moving his supple fingers all along her backside, sending chills running across the tiny hairs of her arms.  
  
She again saw the smoke and fire in his eyes; the longing and the need to consume. But this time she was unafraid. She closed her eyes and drew his mouth down to hers in a passionate kiss. This time she was the aggressor. This time it was her tongue searching out the sweet depths of his mouth.  
  
Frodo casually swept his clothes off the examination table, reached out his hand, and brought Iris over. Time had no meaning as they made love in the afternoon sunshine. The memories of hardships and pain were momentarily forgotten, lost in the mists of pleasure. They ended up in a tangle of limbs, utterly spent from the sudden release of built-up emotions. Frodo became dimly aware that he was lying atop Iris, with his full weight bearing down upon her. He started to move, but she protested.  
  
"No. Please stay," came the silky, husky voice from underneath him. "I love to feel your weight on me."  
  
Frodo settled back down, but carefully shifted some of his weight onto his forearms. He nuzzled aside some of the rich brown curls and kissed the back of her neck. He lightly slid a finger down her side from shoulder to her thigh, causing Iris to shiver with sudden goose bumps. She laughed slightly.  
  
"Ah, good," Frodo chuckled. "I see you are ticklish."  
  
"Maybe later, Mister Baggins, but definitely not now," came the reply. "I am far too relaxed to be tickled."  
  
"That sounds like a challenge," he whispered into her ear, finally rolling away from her. He had forgotten they were on a small examination table, and almost rolled off completely. Luckily, he caught himself before loosing his balance.  
  
Iris giggled as she flipped over to face him. She reached up and brought his face to hers for a luxurious kiss. "Mister Baggins, you have such wonderful lips," she whispered.  
  
"And you, Miss Proudfoot, have the most luscious bottom I have ever had the privilege to admire," he grinned. 


	12. Kiss and Tell

Chapter 12 Title: Kiss and Tell Chapter rating: R (sexual situations, mild language)  
  
"You're going to be useless for helpin' with the farm work today. What were you thinking, Sam?" Rose lectured her injured husband as they walked from Hobbiton to Bag End. Rose carried the empty baskets from their delivery of produce.  
  
"I was thinkin' that bastard aught to eat his mean words, that's what I was thinkin," Sam growled, holding his injured ribs as they ascending the long slow climb up the Hill along Bag Shot Row. "I'll not have him bad-mouthing the folk I love, and that's a fact. I've put up long enough with him and his filthy orc mouth and it's about time someone shut his trap for 'im."  
  
"Samwise Gamgee, listen to yourself," Rose said. "I've never heard you utter so much as a bad word against the weather, and now today I hear all sorts of curses coming out o' your own mouth. And fightin' to boot!"  
  
"Sorry, love," Sam said as they rounded another switchback. "Them words just jumped out on their own. That Sandyman made me so mad I just weren't thinking."  
  
"Well, you best be doin' what Mister Frodo told you - thinkin' and not just poppin' off with your fists," Rose angrily replied.  
  
"Rose, Rose, me love," Sam sighed, gripping his sore ribs. "Sometimes Mister Frodo is right concerning things, and sometimes he's wrong. Sometimes he's too soft on people. There's folk in the world who do the planning and leading, and then there's folk who do the actual carryin' out of the plans. Mister Frodo, well, he's the plannin' type. But he's mighty reluctant to do anything that might involve something messy. He'll try his best to get out of it, or get people to see reason and leave be. That's his talent and I don't begrudge him that. But sometimes getting physical is the only solution to problems."  
  
Rose wrinkled her brow in confusion. "Are you telling me that Frodo Baggins didn't do any fighting during the War? I thought you said he did."  
  
"Oh, he did all right," Sam said, "but only as the last measure and only when someone else's life was in danger. He saved my life more times than I'll ever know, lass. One time in particular I still have nightmares about. We all had some killin' to do, unfortunately. He did his share in Moria and protecting the two of us against Gollum. Mister Frodo can handle a sword well enough, but not like Merry or Pippin, or even me. His heart's not in it, if you understand. Merry and Pippin, now, they took to soldiering straight away. Took lessons from Boromir and Strider. Me and Mister Frodo, well, we learned enough to protect ourselves and others, but we didn't go in for sword drills or learning other weapons. Frodo least of all. His heart's always been with his books and with learning and such. Always has been. Always will be. Just like old Master Bilbo. But sometimes you need a strong show of force in order to set things right or get things done. Like rousting those ruffians from the Shire when we came back. And that's what that fool Sandyman needed - a strong show of force, and I just happen to be the one doin' it."  
  
"You just happen to be the one who struck first too," Rose frowned.  
  
"Yes, I did." It was Sam's turn to frown. "I gave him plenty of warning to back off, but that fool ignored me. If you had heard what that sow's butt said about you and Doctor Proudfoot and Mister Frodo, well, you would have hit his sorry face too."  
  
"I would have done no such thing, Samwise Gamgee," Rose hotly said as they rounded the corner and walked through the little swinging gate of Bag End. "And I heard what he said. I was there. The whole market heard what he said, and saw what you did too. And please watch your language, Sam."  
  
Sam followed his angry wife through the hallway and into the kitchen. His ribs ached miserably, but his wife's reaction to his defense of her reputation hurt him even more.  
  
"Rose," he said, "I will not have anyone sayin' lies about you. I was defending your honor, love."  
  
"My honor does not need defending," she answered crossly as she quickly packed a lunch for herself. "My honor is in tact. However, my dignity is in tatters."  
  
She put down her preparations and gently cupped Sam's face in her hands. "You embarrassed me, my love, by throwing that punch. In public. By now all Hobbiton must think I've married a hot-head who can't control himself."  
  
"Is that what you think of me?" Sam countered. He placed his hands on her hips. Rose could see the sadness welling up in his eyes. Sam could never hide his emotions.  
  
"Of course not," she briefly kissed him and he placed his forehead against hers. "I know my Samwise better than that. If you hit him, then he certainly deserved it. But, please Sam, don't get into any more fights. I need you here with me, and we can't afford to have you out of commission. Especially now, my love."  
  
"What do you mean by that, Rose-lass?" he asked, pulling back to look his wife in the eyes. Her lovely brown eyes.  
  
"Well, I wanted to tell you at another time, but right now will have to do. You're going to be a father, Sam," Rose whispered and shyly smiled.  
  
Sam was speechless. He blinked back some tears which somehow magically appeared, and swallowed to tame the sudden large lump in his throat. A tear escaped and rolled down his tanned cheek as he broke into a huge lopsided grin. The noonday sun pouring in through the open kitchen window couldn't compete with Sam's radiance.  
  
"Rose, you've just made me the happiest hobbit in the Shire," he hoarsely croaked, and kissed her.  
  
"We'll talk some more tonight, love," Rose said. She broke from his embrace and picked up her packed lunch. "Now do as the doctor told you. No lifting. Take it easy today and if you don't aggravate those ribs, we'll see about tomorrow. No puttering around in the garden either! I'll be home from the farm in time for late supper." She turned to exit the kitchen door, but Sam grabbed her by the hand.  
  
"Did I ever tell you how happy you've made me?" Sam kissed her again. "I love ya, Rose Cotton Gamgee. Mistress Gamgee. You're the finest lass in the Shire and I still can't get over that you said 'yes' to me. Don't be stayin' too long at your Dad's today." He winked and let her go. Rose smiled and headed out the door.  
  
Sam watched from the back door stoop as she swiftly walked round Bag End and out towards her family's farmlands. He loved to watch her move. She was so graceful, with a dancer's legs and expressive hands. Strong hands. The hands of a mother.  
  
"Me! A father! Gracious," Sam thought as he turned back to the kitchen and made himself a light lunch. "We'll name the little lad after Mister Frodo. I can't wait till Rosie comes home. Just wait till Frodo hears the news!"  
  
Sam's mind was in a muddle the rest of the afternoon. He was determined to follow the doctor's instructions to the letter, staying indoors and sitting down much of the day, even though it was glorious weather and the beautiful Bag End gardens beckoned from every open window.  
  
Sam elected to spend the afternoon in Mister Frodo's study, sneaking a good long look at what Frodo had been working on so furiously for the past year. Sam was finally able to read Frodo's writings without his master being anywhere near Bag End. Sam leisurely read page after page of Frodo's precise script describing the events before, during, and after the War. Some sections were missing. Some were only outlined. A few contained maps and illustrations. Some were in languages that Sam could not read. But it was all fascinating.  
  
Sam had never guessed the depth of knowledge about the First, Second and Third Ages, the histories of the races of the talking peoples (elves, men, hobbits, dwarves, wizards, ents, even orcs), and the line of the Kings of Numenor that Frodo possessed. Equally impressive to Sam were Frodo and Bilbo's translations from the Elvish of various epic poems and lays and songs. They were all here - here on the desk and in the stacks of books and papers gathered and penned by his friend and master. In Sam's mind, Frodo's literary endeavor to record the events of the Third Age was every bit as heroic and unfathomable as Frodo's moral struggle to resist the evil temptations of the One Ring. And in typical Baggins fashion, few people outside a select group of friends would ever know the struggle that went into the task.  
  
As the sun began to set, Sam quit the study and repaired to the bathing room nearest his own bedroom. Rose would soon be home, and he wanted to surprise her with a special evening. He set about drawing a bath, adding splashes of orange and lemon essence to the warm water. Rose loved citrus and wore a light lemon-scented perfume when she was going anyplace special.  
  
Sam crept into the Bag End cellars and retrieved a bottle of slightly sweet fruity wine. He came back up to the kitchen and selected two of Mister Frodo's special wine goblets. "Nothing but the best for me Rosie, and Mister Frodo won't mind if I borrow these tonight," he thought. He retrieved a small folding table and a wooden chair and set them up in the bathing room next to the tub. The wine goblets and bottle were thoughtfully arranged on the table, along with a cut-glass vase of fresh- cut golden sunflowers, pink roses and orange poppies from the garden. Sam lighted the wall sconces and left the door to the room slightly ajar.  
  
He was in the kitchen cutting up a yellow-meat melon and a cantaloupe when Rose walked in through the back door. She was tired and dusty from the day's labor and walk back to Bag End, but managed a smile and a kiss for her husband as she entered the relative coolness of the smial. Sam popped a piece of melon in her mouth after the kiss.  
  
"Ummm. that's wonderful," she mumbled through her chewing as she set down her basket and removed the calico cloth which was tucked around some parcels. "Mom sent over some bread and honey and Dad and the lads hope you are on the mend. How are your ribs, Sam? Are you hungry?"  
  
Sam finished cutting up the fruit and wiped his hands on a tea towel. He came over and hugged Rose to his chest. "I'm hungry alright. I feel like I could eat you up right here and now," he growled into her ear and kissed her fiercely.  
  
Rose giggled, her eyes shining with love. "Sam, I'm dusty and tired and hungry."  
  
"Well I've got just the thing to take care of all that," he said. With one hand he grabbed the bowl of cut up melon and a small knife, and with the other he led Rose back into the bathing room. The fragrance of oranges, melons and heady wine drifted up with the steam. The little beeswax candles flickered, casting wavering shadows across the room.  
  
Sam set the bowl of fruit on the table beside the wine goblets. Rose sighed with contentment as Sam began to slowly undo the ribbons on her bodice. Soon the rest of her clothes joined the bodice in a small pile in one corner of the room. Sam couldn't resist cupping her breasts in his calloused hands, caressing them and teasing Rose with his fingers.  
  
"I don't think it's fair, what with me being naked and you fully clothed," she slyly protested, removing his vest. Sam shrugged out of his braces and let Rose finish disrobing him. She started to unbind the bandages across his ribs, but he restrained her.  
  
"Nay lass," he whispered, "I'll be keeping those on for a little while longer. After we're done, then I'll ask ya to redo them. But not right now."  
  
Rose nodded and began to stroke his thighs. Her firm, strong farm-lass's hands against his skin caused a flush to spread across his chest and up his neck. That wasn't the only part of him becoming flushed and excited. He had never considered himself to be handsome, but Rose loved him and told him often of her love and desire.  
  
"See what you do to me, lass?" Sam kissed her as he led her to the tub. He could feel the tips of his ears burning as well.  
  
"I can't help but see it," Rose laughed as she stepped into the tub. Sam poured the wine while Rose closed her eyes and settled into the fragrant warm water. "Oh, Sam, this is lovely."  
  
Sam carefully placed a small slice of melon in the wine. "Here ya go, me love." He handed her the goblet, sparkling with golden liquid in the candlelight. Sam pulled up the little chair beside the tub and raised his glass. "To the newest addition to our family. Stars! What a grand feeling!" They sipped the nectar and laughed at their good fortune.  
  
Sam abandoned his wine and fruit after only a few sips. His attention was more focused upon his luscious wife than on the food and drink. He lathered up the sponge and washed her back as Rose luxuriated in her bath and wine. Sam reached around and massaged her breasts with his soapy hands, then let one hand wander down below the waterline while the other rinsed off the soap. Rose leaned back to rest her head against his shoulder, letting him caress her while she lazed in a stupor of warmth, wetness and stimulation.  
  
"Oh, Sam," she sighed, "you could talk me into trying to jump the moon right now if you asked."  
  
"Come out of the tub then, and I'll help limber your limbs for that jump," he said. She giggled and stood up to towel herself dry. Sam helped her out of the tub and then turned her around.  
  
"Standing?" she murmured, leaning back into his chest as they began to make love.  
  
"It don't hurt my ribs none this way," he matter-of-factly said. Conversation ceased for awhile, the room filled instead with moans and sighs.  
  
"If I didn't already have a bun in the oven, I certainly would now!" she giggled as he grabbed a towel. She could hear Sam chuckling under his breath. Rose turned around. He was holding his ribs. They obviously hurt now, but his eyes sparkled with merriment and laughter.  
  
"Oh, Sam, let me take care of those," Rose said, placing her hand on his bandages.  
  
Sam nodded and allowed Rose to unbind the wrappings, wash the bruised ribs and re-wrap the injury as Iris had instructed. Sam didn't flinch throughout the ordeal, although she knew it must have pained him. The bruise was blue and purple with tinges of angry red. "I hope I didn't hurt you too much," Rose said as she finished.  
  
"I've had much worse," he replied. "But your touch could never bring me anything but pleasure." Sam smiled handed her a soft cotton robe. He pulled his own robe on over the bandages. "I'm sorry I embarrassed you today. I'll not let words set me off again, I promise ya, Rose. I'll be here to love and protect you and our little ones for as long as you'll have me."  
  
Rose smiled and kissed him. "I love you, Samwise Gamgee. You're the finest hobbit ever and I'm so proud of you. You'll make a wonderful father." They walked hand-in-hand back to the kitchen for the rest of their dinner. 


	13. Don't Tell Sam

Chapter 13 Title: Don't Tell Sam Chapter rating: R (sexual situations, remembered torture)  
  
Early the next morning Iris awoke to the sound of a nightingale singing in the dawn. Outside the slightly open window the stars are fading into a clear, pale lavender/blue sky. Iris found herself spooned up against Frodo's back while he lay asleep on his right side. She had her left arm wound around his chest, and started playing with one of his nipples. He stirred in his sleep and reached his left hand back around to her hip, caressing her.  
  
They ended up making soft, sleepy love in the early morning. They were both lightly sweating, their breath coming in soft moans and mingling with the song of the nightingale. The world was far, far away. Dawn has arrived, and the nightingale's voice was joined by cockcrows, finches and larks, but the lovers didn't notice. They were lost within each other.  
  
Iris lay atop Frodo for a few moments, spent and trembling with released desire. She snuggled up under the arm he had casually flung across her pillow. Frodo finally opened his eyes and smiled down at her.  
  
"I must admit," he sleepily smiled, "I have never experienced a more pleasant awakening in my life."  
  
"You've never spent the night with a lass?" she teased, toying with his nipples again. His chest was hairless and alabaster, making a showcase of his dark pink nipples. Iris was fascinated.  
  
"No, I have never had that pleasure until now," he quietly admitted, stroking her hair. "Iris, I might be fifty-two, but I have not had many sexual encounters in my life. And my Uncle Bilbo couldn't ever bring himself to tell me about such matters the way most hobbit lads learn from their fathers. I am not well versed in pleasing a lass, so I do apologize if I am a bit clumsy or, um, rushed."  
  
Iris smiled and kissed him squarely on the lips. "Mister Baggins, no one could ever accuse you of being clumsy or, um, rushed. You have done more than please this lass." She suddenly became very serious. "You've stolen my heart, Frodo Baggins."  
  
Frodo rolled her over onto her back and planted his own kiss on her lips, then on each breast. "You are quite special to me. More that you will ever realize. I said it last night, and I shall say it again. I love you, Iris Proudfoot."  
  
Iris ran her hands up and down his back as he nuzzled her neck. She could feel the parallel scars on Frodo's back which she had first observed the previous day in the examination room.  
  
"Frodo," she tentatively said, "you said you would tell me about what happened to you during the War."  
  
He stopped kissing and hesitantly settled onto his side, his head propped up on one elbow. "Yes? What do you want to know?" He couldn't help his hand from tracing lazy circles around her breasts and bellybutton.  
  
"You have scars on your back," Iris said. "What are they from? I can tell they must have been infected as well. What happened? How did you get them? Why didn't you seek treatment?"  
  
Frodo flopped on his back and swallowed hard. He closed his eyes and scrunched down into the safety of the bed clothes. He sighed and placed his interlocked hands behind his head. Iris rolled onto her side to reach out a hand of comfort to her suddenly stricken lover. Frodo opened his eyes and turned his head towards her.  
  
"This will not be easy for me, but I did promise to not hide anything from you," he sadly said. He looked up at the ceiling, accessing his memories from that dreadful time. "What I am about to tell you must never, NEVER, go beyond this room. Sam, especially, must never learn of this. Promise me that?"  
  
Iris nodded. This must be something terrible indeed, if Sam was not privy to it.  
  
"Sam and I could not find an un-guarded entrance into Mordor when we reached the Black Gates," he started his narration. "We had to rely on Gollum to lead us to another passage. One he said was very perilous, but not heavily guarded like the others. We had no choice but to trust him. We traveled many days to another pass in the mountains to another citadel. Gollum was right. There was a secret, forgotten tunnel which lead into the mountains and opened up on the other side into Mordor."  
  
Iris settled back, rested her head on his shoulder and placed her hand on his chest. Frodo draped his arm around her waist while the other held onto her hand. His continued to stare at the ceiling.  
  
"Gollum betrayed us there in the dark stairwell. I was attacked by this . this, giant spider is the only way I can describe it. It was huge. It was a monster. The stench was overwhelming. I thought Sam and I had driven it away, but it was stealthy and separated us as I was running towards the light. I do not remember anything else for a long time. Sam told me he saw the monster sting me in the neck. I carry that wound too. It is here, under my hair."  
  
Frodo turned slightly and raised his raven locks away from the left back of his neck. Iris could make out a purplish puncture wound right before his curls started. It was wide and ugly.  
  
"I keep my hair long to hide that scar," he matter-of-factly stated. "The sting paralyzed me. Sam thought I was dead. He told me he stayed with my body for a long time, hoping I would wake up, but I never did. He was forced into making a dreadful decision he should have never had to make. He truly believed I was dead. He was forced to choose between staying with me, or continuing alone into Mordor, by himself, to destroy the Ring."  
  
Frodo sighed and a tear trickled down his cheek. Iris wiped it away. He wanly smiled at her.  
  
"I am sorry. I become emotional when thinking about this. I do not think I shall ever get over it. I know it tore Sam in two. If things had not turned out differently, I am sure he would have gone mad before the end. Taking up the Ring is not done lightly."  
  
"But things did turn out differently, love," Iris quietly said.  
  
"Yes," he said, "but not without a lot of pain. Well, Sam took the Ring and had to abandon me in the tunnels of Cirith Ungol. He tells me he did not get far before hearing a band of orcs coming. They found me and took me into the citadel. That is when Sam learned that I was not dead, only paralyzed. Sam had to find another way into the tower.  
  
I remember waking up with the orcs pouring some burning liquid down my throat. They had already stripped me of most of my clothes and belongings. They were under orders from Barad-dur to strip all spies, interrogate them, and send everything directly to Sauron. He was suspicious that a great Elf lord had the Ring and was trying to get into Mordor to challenge him. I am not a very convincing Elf lord, am I?"  
  
"Not in the least," Iris whispered, trying to not interrupt his mood.  
  
"I was sick from the venom and lack of food and water and rest. I did not know where I was or what had happened to Sam. I thought the orcs had finally captured us, and since Sam was not with me I thought they must have killed him. I knew the Ring was gone, and that was the worse torment. I believed the orcs had already stripped me of the Ring and It was on its way to the Dark Lord, and I would soon follow.  
  
They bickered amongst themselves over everything. One group tried to get information out of me. They finished stripping me and tied me up against the wall for interrogation. I was of no use to them. I thought the Quest was over and everything was hopeless. I despaired, but refused to tell them anything. They kept asking questions and flicking their knives and telling me how they were going to skin me before sending me off to the Eye to be devoured. One did start sticking me with his knife. He . he . well, he jabbed me in the buttocks and then wiped my own blood on my face and . and then licked the blood off. Then they started in with the whips."  
  
Tears escaped from Iris's eyes. She quietly flicked them away. Frodo struggled to contain his emotions. He hugged her to himself in an almost- painful grip. She did not protest.  
  
"I must have blocked out the pain somehow. It was as if a part of me was there in the tower, and another part had flown away to someplace quiet and still. I remember feeling each blow, but I have no memory of the pain itself. I know they were talking to me, asking me questions, but I do not remember hearing anything except the swish of the air as the whip came down across my back. I know I cried out, but I do not know what I said. It was probably insane babbling, since they were angry and kept up the beating and interrogation."  
  
"But the blood on my back did something to them," Frodo wept openly now. "While most of them were arguing over my clothes and who was going to get credit for the capture, one of them cut me down. A fight broke out between the two groups. They were actually killing each other over me and my things. The small one who was wielding the whip dragged me over to a corner."  
  
Frodo closed his eyes, his lips tight and white, his face drawn. Tears rolled down his face. "That orc raped me. He used my own blood to do the deed. I can still feel him rubbing his dirty hands over the wounds on my back to lubricate himself. Iris, don't ever tell Sam. Please."  
  
"Oh, Frodo," Iris sobbed, "I'm so sorry. I promise, I'll never tell a soul."  
  
"Sam can never know," Frodo continued. "He has enough problems dealing with the guilt he feels for having to abandon me in the stairwell and how long it took him to find me again. If he knew about everything they did to me, well, he would never be able to forgive himself and it would drive him insane."  
  
The nightingale gave one last trill before handing over responsibility for songs to the birds of the day. Sunlight drifted in through the window, casting yellow streaks across the sheets and pooling beside Frodo's right side. He finally closed his weary eyes and wiped the tears from his face. After a few moments he continued.  
  
"The orcs killed each other in the end. Sam finally found a way inside and rescued me. It must have been several hours later, but time had little meaning to me then. I know I was in shock and still naked when he found me. I thought I was hallucinating when he sang to me in the gloom and death. I never told him about the rape. He might have guessed, but we have never talked about that day or my torture."  
  
"One of these days you will have to talk to him about it," Iris softy said. "Neither he nor you can heal until you bring it out in the open. I leave that up to you two. This is between you and Sam. But you'll never finish your book until this incident is dealt with verbally." 


	14. A Toast

Chapter 14 Title: A Toast Chapter rating: G  
  
Frodo returned to Bag End only to find it empty. However, there was evidence that Sam and Rose were recently in, as the windows were open to the beautiful autumn breeze and the kettle was still hot. Frodo poured himself a cup of tea. There was a new crock of honey open on the kitchen table, so he added a spoonful of the nectar to his cup. The combination of his early morning activities with Iris and the brisk walk from Hobbiton had whetted his appetite to an unusual degree for him. Frodo sat down at the table and helped himself to a slice of fresh wheat bread and some left-over melon he found in a bowl. The melon tasted a bit unusual. Was that a wine sauce in there? It was good, whatever Rose had done with it. He wolfed it down.  
  
Frodo could see Sam out in the back tool shed. He evidently had not noticed Frodo's return, as he was absorbed with gathering tools for his day's work. Rose was nowhere to be seen, but that was not unusual. She often helped at her family's farm for the day. Frodo finished with his breakfast and took the tea into his study.  
  
Someone had been looking through his papers and writings again. This wasn't the first time he had noticed it. Everything was where it should be, but there were subtle changes in how things are re-arranged this time. The blue inkwell was now atop the far left stack of papers on the desk, when it should have been the black inkwell there. The map of the Shire he usually kept under the desk no longer had a light coating of dust and was propped up against the table leg instead of lying flat on the floor. The little table beside the chair next to the fireplace had a half-empty mug on a coaster. Frodo padded over and sniffed. From the aroma he could tell it was some of the peach tea Sam liked to drink.  
  
Aha! Frodo had known Sam was tempted to steal in and read through his writings. Ever since Bilbo had taught Sam his letters he had taken to sneaking into the Bag End study to try to find books about the Elves. It was Sam's secret passion and he was somewhat embarrassed by it. Now Frodo had the evidence of Sam's obsession. Frodo smiled. Caught him! Something important must have interrupted Sam's reading. He was usually much more circumspect than to leave evidence behind. Something, or someone. Aha again! Rose. It had to be Rose.  
  
Frodo smiled at his own deductive reasoning. He had the evidence to tease Sam unmercifully for at least one good joke. Maybe two if he could verify it was Rose who interrupted Sam's surreptitious reading. This was going to be fun.  
  
Another thought came unbidden to Frodo's mind. Sam was reading his history of the Quest and the War. The chapter under development and lying on top of the stack of virgin parchment dealt with Shelob. It was in plain sight for anyone looking on the desk. Sam would have read it.  
  
"Iris is right," Frodo thought as he sipped his tea. "It is time I talked to Sam about Cirith Ungol. I cannot possibly put some of that into the book. It would not be fair to him, or to me, or to whomever reads this book when it is finished. And I have no idea of what he went through to find me in that dreadful tower. I wonder how much he knows?"  
  
Frodo looked outside the study window and could see Sam working in the flower garden beside the front door. "Now is as good a time as any," he thought.  
  
Frodo had to do a little trespassing of his own. He went into Sam and Rose's bedroom and located Sam's favorite pipe. He then retrieved his own pipe, a small pouch of Longbottom Leaf and a brand, and opened the front door. Sam had just started weeding and trimming back the boxwood and primroses.  
  
"Mister Frodo, I didn't see ya come in. Welcome back home. Hope you and the doctor didn't run into more trouble in Hobbiton because of me and my foolishness."  
  
"We spent the day visiting all the businesses and stomping out rumors, but it was very productive." Frodo handed Sam his pipe and the two friends wandered over to the little stone bench set into the garden wall. "I think it was good for Iris too, as just about everyone we met was very supportive of her. However, I think I may have done some foolishness of my own."  
  
"What do you mean?" Sam asked as he loaded his pipe. "I can't believe you would get into a fight!"  
  
Frodo laughed and took a long pull on his own pipe. "Oh no! Nothing near as physical as you. But I think I made a mistake at the tailors. I ordered a new dress for the doctor, and also ordered a matching vest for myself. Iris didn't take too kindly to either, but really protested about the matching vest."  
  
"Lasses do get peculiar notions about what is and what isn't proper, particularly when concerning their own clothes," Sam chuckled. "I have sisters even, and I haven't figured that out yet. I don't think I ever will either. I don't see nothin' wrong with having matching clothes, as long as they're not gaudy or nothing. Er. you didn't order anything in a print pattern, did ya?"  
  
"Um . well. does paisley count as a pattern?" Frodo said rather sheepishly.  
  
"Beggin' yer pardon, but that's probably not a good choice," Sam grinned. His master was so smart about book-learning, but could be so thick about everyday things. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb ifin the two of you wear them outfits at the same time." Sam was rather enjoying Frodo's discomfort. It was the easy teasing of long-time friends.  
  
"Perhaps I should instruct Mistress Chiswell change the paisley to something else. I think she was trying to talk me out of that vest too. Well, I shall do that tomorrow." Frodo tried to change the subject. "How are your ribs doing?"  
  
"Not near as sore as my ears were yesterday," Sam smiled. "I got a right royal tongue-lashing from Rose about getting into that fight. Me lass has a temper and isn't afraid to speak her mind." Sam chuckled and crossed his legs in front. "But I like that in her. I know I shouldn't let ole Sandyman get to me though. I promised her last night that I wouldn't be getting into no more fights."  
  
Sam suddenly sat upright and turned to Frodo. "Rose and me . well, we got some important news to tell ya." Sam was beaming. "Rose is in the family way! I'm goin' to be a dad! And I want to name the little lad after you, if you don't mind."  
  
Frodo's eyes crinkled in merriment. He gave Sam a big hug. "Sam, that's wonderful! Congratulations! I am terribly flattered, to say the least. What if it's a girl, Sam?"  
  
"Well, I dunno, Mister Frodo, sir. Guess we'll deal with that when we come to it. But I'm sure it's a boy."  
  
"This calls for a toast," Frodo said as he and Sam got up. They went inside the smial and split up. Frodo went to retrieve a couple of mugs from the kitchen while Sam ambled off into the cellar. Frodo joined Sam in the small cool room deep within the Hill. Sam tapped the little ale barrel (Barliman's Best Ale from the Prancing Pony, which was a house-warming gift from Merry) and they took the beer outside, re-lighting their pipes and toasting Rose and Sam and the baby.  
  
"To the latest addition to the Gamgees!" Frodo raised his mug on high. "May your children bring you joy and happiness. Here's to Samwise Gamgee, the truest friend a hobbit could ever have."  
  
"Aw, gee, Mister Frodo," Sam blushed, "thank you. Here's to me Rose and our bairn, and to you too of course."  
  
The two friends drained their beers and spent the rest of the morning talking about good times to come. The hard discussion about Cirith Ungol could wait. 


	15. Trial by Equals

Chapter 15 Title: Trial by Equals Chapter rating: G  
  
Doctor Thumo Havloc arrived in Hobbiton on September 30th; a cold, blustery autumn day. The elderly hobbit had traveled by pony from Micheldelving that day and was quite put out at the inconvenience he was suffering. Mayor Will Whitfoot had arranged for him to stay at the Mayor and Mistress Whitfoot's residence, but was meeting the doctor at the Green Dragon Inn since it was a common landmark for Hobbiton. Doctor Havloc was to investigate charges of malpractice against Iris Proudfoot, the local physician.  
  
"Botheration and confoundedness," Thumo muttered, trying to untangle his traveling cloak from his saddle packs so he could dismount his little grey pony. It had been a long, cold journey for the portly gentlehobbit, who was not used to traveling. He desperately wanted to get off his animal and into the warmth of the Inn, but was having trouble with the wind. The Northerly breeze was whipping round the building, sending autumn leaves dancing in gravity-defying spirals. A few were caught in a backwater near the pony hitches, sending faded leaves to their final resting grounds at the feet of the patient animals.  
  
Thumo finally succeeded in capturing his offending cloak and dismounted the pony. He stomped into the friendly pub, blinking at the sudden warmth in the hallway. A few patrons were at the bar enjoying their cups. As the doctor wandered into the dining area, an elderly hobbit stood up at one of the tables, leaning heavily on a cane, and waved the windblown doctor over.  
  
"Doctor Havloc, I presume?" Mayor Whitfoot asked and offered his handshake.  
  
"Yes, indeed," the doctor said. "You must be Mayor Whitfoot. Pleasure to meet you, sir." Thumo shook hands and sat himself at the proffered seat as the Mayor sat down rather heavily.  
  
"Your Honor, sir?" the barkeep inquired, wiping his hands on a tea towel, "may I get you a fresher? And what will your guest be having?"  
  
"Master Chas Limekiln, may I introduce you to Doctor Thumo Havloc of Micheldelving?" the Mayor boomed.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you, sir," the barkeep bowed deeply to show his respect for the stranger. "We are all very glad you're here, and hope ta get this mess straightened up right away. Now, what may I get you gentlehobbits?"  
  
"A pleasure to meet you too. A pot of very hot tea would be most appreciated, thank you," the doctor replied. The barkeep noted the Mayor's nod at his own tea cup, and disappeared into the kitchen for a fresh pot.  
  
"It seems the reason for my presence is known to the populace," Thumo said.  
  
"Well, you can't keep something like this under a bushel," the Mayor replied. Mister Limekiln brought over a large pot of fresh tea and an extra cup and saucer, plus a honey pot and scones for the table. "Yes, Hobbiton and Bywater are rife with rumors and gossip about this. We are so hoping you will be able to set things straight one way or another. The tension caused by the wait has been unbearable."  
  
"Twas nothing to be done about the waiting," the doctor said as he stirred the honey into his tea and took a long sip. He could feel its warmth travel down into his ample stomach, heating him from the inside out. The scones were delicious and warm as well. Hobbiton might not be too bad a place to visit. Didn't want to live here, but not a bad place.  
  
"I had to finish instructing my apprentice on a few things before trusting him with the practice to come here. But tush, that's all done. I hate having to do these inquiries. Upsets the stomach as well as the liver. I've only had to do two before, and mostly disliked both affairs. Emotions run high and I'm not one for overt emotional displays. I do hope to get this over with and be on my way before a Norther blows down heavy rain."  
  
"We are all hoping the same thing," Will replied. "I've lined up interviews for tomorrow with all the parties involved. I took the liberty of scheduling the proceedings to take place at my home, if you do not mind. I find it increasingly difficult to travel about the countryside at my advanced age. My wife, Amanda, will act as the official recording secretary. Normally I would have asked Mister Baggins to do so, as his handwriting is excellent and he has a flair for politics even if he won't admit it. However, he is one of the witnesses to the case."  
  
"I might have guessed a Baggins would have something to do with this," Thumo mumbled into his tea. Thumo was on the board of directors of the Micheldelving Mathom House. Bagginses had donated items to the Shire's official "museum" on several occasions, but most recently one had taken a couple of items back. It was most unusual for a donor to re-claim a donation. It didn't sit well with the Board and particularly not with Doctor Havloc. And the items those Bagginses donated . well, they were not your normal mathom. Too exotic and strange for the doctor's tastes. Anytime a Baggins was involved in something, it was a bother. Doctor Havloc was rather against the Bagginses and against Hobbiton in general. The news that a Baggins was involved in the malpractice investigation only confirmed Thumo's suspicions. Hobbiton was far too close to the Wild, and harbored strange and confused citizens, the nice Mayor none withstanding.  
  
"Mister Baggins is to be considered a hostile witness for the Wyncots," the Mayor continued, politely ignoring Doctor Havloc's frown. "Mister Fredigar Bolger will act as bailiff just in case emotions get out of hand. We shall get to that tomorrow. Whenever you are ready, we can get you settled in to my home."  
  
Despite what Thumo Havloc said about Frodo Baggins, the Mayor was taking a liking to the visiting doctor. It was not often the Mayor had a visitor from Micheldelving, much less a hobbit near his own age and social status. The two stood and fastened their cloaks before heading out into the blustery autumn wind. Thumo lead the pony as the pair leisurely walked the short distance to the Mayor's home. Thumo even offered his arm to assist the Mayor. A friendship was born.  
  
Freddy arrived promptly at 10 o'clock the next morning wearing his best coat and vest. The Mayor gave him a special red ribbon to wear tied about his arm, indicating his status as bailiff. Freddy was terribly pleased.  
  
The Wyncots were the first witnesses to be interviewed. Amanda Whitfoot settled into her familiar chair to record the proceedings, with her husband acting as witness. He had decided to separate the Wyncots and have Doctor Havloc interview them one at a time. The Mayor was suspicious that Rudy Wyncot and his son Jack did not see the events in the same light as Maybell, and wanted to let the farmer and his son tell their sides to the story without having to placate Maybell at the same time.  
  
The interviews started with Maybell Wyncot, as she was the aggrieved party and had brought up the charges. She recounted her objections to the way Iris Proudfoot had treated her son's injuries and became quite angry during the session. Doctor Havloc asked some pointed questions about her own behavior, causing the grieving mother to sputter and hiss, and finally utter curses at all doctors. Freddy ended up escorting the upset hobbitess from the Mayor's study and into a back bedroom.  
  
Rudy Wyncot was next. He basically told the same story as his wife, with the exception of stating that Miss Proudfoot could not have arrived any sooner, or have acted any faster in her treatments. He was dismissed to go comfort his wife while Jack Wyncot was called in.  
  
"Well, yer honors, sirs, I was there when poor Teddy died," the lad said.  
  
"We've heard from your parents about what happened before they were removed from the room," Doctor Havloc said. "But since you returned to assist the doctor, I would be most interested in hearing your opinion as to her treatments."  
  
"Well, sir," Jack cleared his throat and fidgeted with the buttons on his vest, "When me and Mister Baggins came back in ta room, the doc had calmed Teddy down and was trying to stop his bleedin'. He was awful bad by then. She gave him some medicine, which put 'im to sleep right fast. I don't think doc knew it would do so as fast as it did. Doc Proudfoot and Mister Baggins tried and tried, but Teddy didn't have much of a chance, really. There was too much bleedin'." A tear crept down Jack's face as he looked at his feet.  
  
"Thank you, son," Doctor Havloc said. "I'm very sorry about your brother's death. But thank you for helping us with this matter. One final question, if you don't mind answering. Would you let Doctor Proudfoot operate or otherwise treat yourself, your mother or your father after what you witnessed?"  
  
Jack thought about the question for a moment, then looked up at the stranger from Micheldelving. "Yes sir, yer honor, sir. Yes I would. She's a good doctor."  
  
"Thank you, Jack," Mayor Whitfoot interrupted. "That will be all." Jack stood and bowed to his elders, then left the room. The Wyncots gathered their coats and headed out into the brisk noonday air.  
  
"Seems pretty clear to me that Mistress Wyncot does not have a case," Thumo said to the Mayor. "I don't think I need call Mister Baggins, but I would like to talk with Doctor Proudfoot, if you don't mind."  
  
"She is scheduled to arrive after lunch," the Mayor replied. "Shall we repair to the dinning room for a little refreshment ourselves?"  
  
Iris arrived accompanied by Frodo about an hour afterwards. She was nervous and clung to his arm as they approached the round yellow door. "I don't know Doctor Havloc. I was supposed to go to Micheldelving and study with him for a year, but I ended up staying on with Mistress Weaver in Southway instead. Do you think he'll remember?"  
  
"He probably will, but that is beside the point," Frodo patted her hand to reassure her. "Come now, it is time to lay this matter to rest." Frodo knocked at the door and was surprised when Fredigar answered. "Freddy! What are you doing here?"  
  
"Come in Doctor. Frodo," Freddy gestured while holding the door ajar. "I'm bailiff, so don't you be teasing me none. The Mayor thought it wise to have someone here when Mistress Wyncot arrived. Good thing too. She sure knows some good curse words. I'll have to try them out on Sandyman next time I see 'em."  
  
Frodo thought that was funny. Iris did not. Freddy escorted them into the study where they were introduced to Doctor Havloc. Frodo thought he recognized the Micheldevling doctor from a visit to the Mathom House he and Bilbo had taken years ago, but perhaps he was mistaken. Bilbo was donating something to the Board of Directors and Frodo was free to roam about the large building, looking at the various mysterious (and some hideously ugly) items on display, reading the strange descriptions and ignoring the dedicatory plaques. It was a very long time ago he realized.  
  
The Mayor dismissed Frodo from the proceedings, much to his chagrin. Freddy escorted Frodo back into the living room as the door to the study snicked shut behind them. This left the Mayor, Doctor Havloc, Amanda Whitfoot and Iris alone. Iris took the proffered seat and gulped hard. She was a nervous wreck.  
  
"Doctor Proudfoot," the Mayor began, "thank you for coming. Doctor Havloc and I hope to finish up these proceedings today and get this ugly business behind us. Please answer the doctor to the best of your ability. And relax, dear." The Mayor and Amanda smiled at Iris. Iris gamely smiled back. Doctor Havloc's expression of slight disapproval did not change. Iris quickly lost her wane smile and resumed looking at her hands folded in her lap.  
  
"Doctor Proudfoot," Thumo began, "please describe the condition of your patient when you first saw him."  
  
Iris cleared her tight throat. "He was lying on a bed at the farmhouse with a compound fracture of the upper left arm. It was strapped to a board. The bone was splintered and the wound covered with hay dust and manure. It was bleeding heavily. The patient was still conscious and able to talk. However, his pallor was quite white and his breathing shallow and ragged."  
  
"Did the bleeding ever stop during your treatment?" the elderly hobbit asked.  
  
"No," Iris replied. "I could not stop it. I tried direct pressure. I tried arterial pressure, but it continued." She could hear the faint ticking of a clock off somewhere in the back of the room. It reminded her of a heartbeat.  
  
"Why didn't you amputate and cauterize the wound to stop the bleeding?" the doctor asked. He knew the answer before she said it. It was clear to him that Iris had followed recommended procedures, whether the Wyncot family realized it or not. The only question he really had for Iris would be asked next.  
  
"I did not have time," she whispered.  
  
"Could you please repeat that a bit louder, dear?" Amanda interrupted. "I couldn't quite hear."  
  
"I did not have time to get the cauterizing iron hot for amputation," Iris spoke up. "He died before I could even get the iron out of the bag."  
  
"Doctor Proudfoot," Thumo looked directly at her, "why did you stop and administer a sedative when time was of the essence?"  
  
Iris sighed and looked at her hands again. "I didn't want him to suffer any more pain during either procedure. Whether setting the bone or amputating, I prefer that my patients be unconscious so they do not feel the pain. However, Ted Wyncot died before the sedative had time to take effect."  
  
"So he would have died no matter what you did, is that correct?" the Micheldelving doctor quietly asked.  
  
A tear escaped from Iris's eyes. "Yes. I tried my best, but I could not save him. I am sorry, but it was far too late for poor Ted." Too late. The clock ticked. Time dribbling away. Too late.  
  
"Your honor?" Doctor Havloc addressed the Mayor, "I have heard enough testimony to render my verdict. Doctor Proudfoot, you may leave now, and thank you. Someday you will have to come visit us at Micheldelving. I understand you have some expertise in treating patients with unbalanced humors, especially melancholics. I would be interested in learning about your work. Good day to you, Doctor."  
  
Iris stood up and bowed. "Good day, Doctor. Your honor. Mistress Whitfoot." She left the room.  
  
Frodo and Iris retrieved their coats and were again escorted to the front door by Freddy.  
  
"When will we know the outcome?" Frodo asked as he helped Iris into her coat.  
  
"I suspect the Mayor will post it on the marketplace board tomorrow," Freddy said. "I'll probably have to do the town crying around noon or so. If that's not the case, I'll send word to ya, Miss Proudfoot."  
  
Iris whispered her thanks as she and Frodo walked back to her Offices. Time stretched into immeasurable lengths. The rest of the day was spent in waiting. The only sounds to reach Iris's ears was the constant tick of the hallway clock. Tick. Tock. Too late. 


	16. The Verdict

Chapter 16 Title: The Verdict Chapter rating: G  
  
"Hear ye, hear ye! Gather round the news to hear!" Freddy stood atop an apple crate in the Hobbiton marketplace wearing his best brown suit, gay yellow weskit and an official red Deputy Mayor's ribbon pinned to his sleeve. "Hear ye, hear ye! Gather round for news!"  
  
It was October 1st and the sun was directly overhead. Freddy had rung the small brass bell atop the Hobbiton market public posting board to get the crowd's attention. He was enjoying his official duties immensely. Not only did he get to wear the official red ribbon, but he had an official proclamation in his hands, itself a work of art with Amanda Whitfoot's neat handwriting and an official red ribbon attached at the closure wax seal.  
  
Iris stood beside the posting board, one hand shoved into the pocket of her grey coat. Frodo was at her left side, his fingers intertwined with her free hand. To his left was Sam, wearing his best suit and looking a bit uncomfortable in it. He never did like dressing up, but Rose had insisted on it. She was on Iris's right, her strong arm around the physician's shoulders. Rose had a look of fierce determination on her face, practically daring anyone to say anything negative about her friend. Tandy Bofin and his wife, Opal, stood behind his cousin, and they were backed up by the Midwife.  
  
Merry and Pippin had ridden over from Crickethollow to lend their support. They towered over the rest of the crowd. Merry was dressed in his Rohan outfit, looking extremely dashing in the green and yellow. Pippin was right by his side, as was normal, wearing the black and silver of Gondor. The two tall hobbits were whispering softly, occasionally glancing at a lass or two, then breaking out into a grin or a wink.  
  
The Mayor and his wife, along with their guest, Doctor Thumo Havloc, waited off to one side near to the Hobbiton bakery. The Mayor was politely shaking hands and whispering banalities to his gathered constituents as they came up to greet the popular elderly gentlehobbit. Doctor Havloc was introduced to a few, but most merely nodded their 'hellos' or bowed politely. Mistress Chiswell and her apprentice Heili had put aside their needlework to attend the announcement. They joined a little group of business owners who had gathered outside the Tailor's shop. Businesses throughout the Hobbiton area suspended activities for the noonday hour in order to give everyone time to attend. Public investigations of this sort were extremely rare.  
  
The Wyncots, their farm hands, and a few house servants clustered in a little group near the Green Dragon's front door. Chas Limekiln, the Inn's owner, brought them mugs of hot mulled wine as a gesture of sympathy for their loss. He and Rudy Wyncot stood aside, briefly chatting about nothing while waiting for the verdict to be read.  
  
There were many more people in the marketplace than normal this day. Everyone in the Hobbiton and Bywater area knew about the medical inquiry and were supremely interested in learning its outcome. Word had spread throughout the countryside about the Micheldelving physician who had been brought in at great expense to the Mayor. The general consensus was favorable to the additional expense, since it practically guaranteed impartiality in the verdict. And that was more important for getting the question of Doctor Proudfoot's medical qualifications settled once and for all.  
  
The previous evening Freddy made sure to let slip that an official announcement would be read aloud and posted at noon the next day in Hobbiton. He guaranteed a large crowd by letting the supposedly private information loose at the Green Dragon Inn while wearing his official red ribbon, and while enjoying a beer. The gossips took care of the rest. Everyone agreed that the public reading was an excellent idea, as the outcome of the malpractice investigation effected the entire population. Freddy had then walked to the Wyncot's farm and notified them of the public posting of the verdict.  
  
Ted Sandyman loafed with arms crossed beside the vegetable stand in the marketplace. A few of his friends were also there, laughing and munching on fresh dappled gold and red apples brought in from the Bywater orchards. Ted hissed at them to shut up so he could hear the verdict. He, along with about half of the hobbit populace, had never been taught his letters, so it was important that he hear the town crier.  
  
"Hear ye, hear ye!" Freddy's voice boomed. "Your attention please. The official inquiry into the question of Doctor Iris Proudfoot's qualification for practicing medicine is hereby completed. This verdict is rendered by Doctor Thumo Havloc, the teaching physician at Micheldelving, witnessed by his honor the Mayor Will Whitfoot, and scribed by Amanda Whitfoot in the presence of myself as secondary witness. Hear ye and attend."  
  
Freddy broke the seal on the scroll and unrolled it. He cleared his throat as the crowd hushed to silence.  
  
"Rendered this day, October 1st, Shire Reckoning 1420, in Hobbiton, the Shire; a verdict concerning a question of medical malpractice. Brought forth by Mistress Maybell Wyncot against Doctor Iris Proudfoot. Investigation into the procedures practiced upon one Ted Wyncot, lately deceased, were completed by Doctor Thumo Havloc, visiting investigating physician from Micheldelving, and witnessed by his honor, the Mayor Will Whitfoot. Witnesses called: Maybell Wyncot, Rudy Wyncot, Jack Wyncot, Iris Proudfoot. Verdict is hereby rendered. Doctor Iris Proudfoot is found to have performed her medical services in an appropriate, timely, and compassionate manner. She is hereby absolved from any wrong-doing in the matter of Ted Wyncot's death. Signed, Thumo Havloc. Witnessed by Will Whitfoot."  
  
Cheering and hand-clapping broke out in the crowd. Merry and Pippin shook hands with Tandy and Opal, while Rose gave Iris a squeeze about the shoulders. Iris smiled weakly and suddenly took in a shaky breath. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath during the reading of the verdict. Waves of relief caused tears to come unbidden to her eyes. She quickly brushed them away and smiled as Frodo kissed her hand.  
  
Iris glanced around and locked eyes from across the marketplace with Maybell Wyncot. The farm wife appeared resigned to accepting the verdict. Evidently her husband and son had screwed up their courage to talk to her about the situation. She was not happy, but was satisfied that a thorough investigation had been made. Maybell had her arm about her husband's waist. As eye contact was made with a blushing Iris, Maybell frowned, but offered the briefest of nods, then took her son's arm and started out of the marketplace. Rudy Wyncot turned to follow, but not before catching Iris's gaze. He briefly touched his hand to his hat, then paced stiffly to catch up with his family.  
  
"It's finally over," Iris sighed.  
  
Rose gave her a kiss on the cheek. "We never had any doubts, love." Sam, grinning from ear to ear, slapped Frodo on the back and pumped his hands in a two-fisted handshake. Freddy tacked the official notice onto the bulletin board as people gathered around to read it for themselves.  
  
Frodo was watching Ted Sandyman's reaction. Sandyman was frowning with arms crossed, eyes narrowed at Frodo's group. He could see that Sandyman's nose had healed off-kilter, thanks to Sam's well-placed fist. Frodo couldn't help but smirk slightly as how Sandyman had gotten what was due him. Frodo pushed the brief feeling of satisfied retribution out of his mind as being an unworthy thought. After all, Sam should not have punched Ted, no matter what the provocation. But even if he wouldn't admit it to himself, Frodo was pleased.  
  
The crowd began to disperse, small groups walking away talking amongst themselves as the notice was posted. Everyone in Hobbiton was relieved that the situation had been resolved, and they still had their doctor. Everyone, that is, except Ted Sandyman. 


	17. The Miller & the Ringbearer

Chapter 17 Title: The Miller & the Ringbearer Chapter rating: PG-13  
  
Iris would always remember October 6th, S.R. 1420, as the busiest day of her life. The day started suddenly in the dark of a cool early morning. Even before she had finished setting the kettle on for tea, the Physician's Office front door bells jingled. The clock had not struck seven bells yet. Iris took the kettle off and went to the door.  
  
Young Molly Underhill, age six and quite cranky and croupy, was ill. Iris brought mother and daughter into the examination room and tried to shush the crying child. Diagnosis was easy as soon as Iris saw the swollen salivary glands. Molly had the mumps. She was miserable, of course, but otherwise fine. Getting the mumps was as common and as expected with young children as loosing their baby teeth.  
  
But Molly's young, inexperienced mother panicked with her sick baby. She had bundled her daughter up in her favorite blanket and brought her to the Physician's Office instead of keeping her at home. Her husband was away on business in Little Delving, and Molly had been up all night crying. Poor Mistress Underhill was practically beside herself with worry over her only child.  
  
As the sun rose, Iris was giving poor Molly a washcloth to suck on. It was soaked in a combination of willow bark tea and lots of honey. That seemed to pacify the miserable and tired youngster, who sniffled and coughed, then settled down into her mother's arms.  
  
"Mistress Underhill," Iris said, "once you and Molly arrive home you must stay there until the mumps are gone. Then wash your house down thoroughly. Under no circumstances are you to take Molly anywhere outside of your house until she's better. You see, the mumps are very contagious. You will expose everyone you meet to them. You just exposed me by bringing Molly here. But since I've had the mumps, no harm has been done. It's best to have the mumps when you are young and can get it over with. In fact, you could do the community a real service. I recommend that Molly has a party while she's with the mumps, and all her little friends who have not had the mumps should be invited. Would you like that, Molly? Would you like to have a party?"  
  
The precocious youngster with the mop of curly brown hair gravely nodded her approval to a party. Her mother smiled as she grasped what the doctor was asking her to do.  
  
"With their parent's complete understanding of course," Iris added. "They should know that their children will be exposed to the mumps and will get it over with in a couple of weeks. But no one over the age of twenty who has not had the mumps should be allowed to visit. Especially not males. Sometimes the mumps effect their other glands, and that can be quite painful. Do you understand, Jasmine?"  
  
Mistress Underhill nodded, thanked the doctor, and picked up Molly and the blanket. Iris sent them home with a little packet of willow bark. There was no other treatment for the mumps, other than giving the victim plenty of cool fluids. Time would take care of the rest.  
  
Iris spent the next 30 minutes cleaning the examination room and her medical tools. She stripped the sheets off the exam table and replaced them with clean ones. She changed her own clothes and thoroughly washed her hands.  
  
Iris grabbed a sheet of parchment and her quill, and wrote a notice of mumps quarantine for the Underhill residence. She also added the "or bring your children to get exposed to mumps" to the quarantine. Satisfied with the missive, she posted it on the Hobbiton posting board, right under the official malpractice verdict. Freddy told her it would remain on the board until the 10th, then he would remove it and return it to the Mayor for his official records.  
  
The marketplace was in full swing in the bright sunshine. Chickens in crates and a temporary pen of sheep had been brought in from the outlying farms and pastures. Harvest was under way and the marketplace held extra tents and tables full of fresh and preserved produce. May Bracegirdle had come into town bringing her two sons with her to help run their family table. She was selling various preserves, jams, jellies and cheeses from their farm. Notices of goods for sale or swap competed with official postings on the bulletin board.  
  
As Iris was returning to her Offices she noticed all the children running towards the main road from Bywater. Children were always the first ones to notice anything exciting happening. But what Iris saw was not good.. A group of five hobbits were carrying a stretcher up the road, clearly heading for her offices. Iris ran over and held the door open for the hobbits, quickly showing them into the examination room. Ted Sandyman was on the stretcher, his left hand swaddled in bloody cloths. He was in terrible pain.  
  
"What happened?" Iris asked the closest hobbit. It was Dibble Culver, an assistant at the Bywater mill and Ted's best friend.  
  
"We had an accident at the mill, Doc," Dibble's voice quivered with concern for his friend. "Ted got 'is sleeve caught in the small loading hopper, and it pulled 'is hand in ta the grist wheel a ways before we could stop it."  
  
Ted's last three fingers of his left hand were crushed. The blood pooled into the cloths and dripped onto the fresh sheets. Ted's eyes were screwed up tight and his breathing was harsh in an effort to control the pain.  
  
"Mister Sandyman, can you hear me?" Iris asked. The poor miller's face was pale and slightly clammy.  
  
Ted opened his eyes and frowned. "Yes. Course I kin hear ya," he panted.  
  
"The last time you required medical treatment you refused my services," Iris intoned, crossing her arms. "This looks a bit more serious than a broken nose. However, this is your hand and your injury. What do you want to do? If you desire, I can call in the Apothecary or the Midwife, but I'm warning you, they will not know what to do with as severe an injury as you have here. I will not treat you if you do not wish a South Farthing witch to touch you." Iris stood beside the injured hobbit and waited.  
  
"Teddy-boy," Dibble whispered in his ear, "ya got no choice here. Best go along with what Doctor says else you'll loose ya hand. Ye know t'is truth. I won't lie ta ya."  
  
Ted looked at the doctor, then at his friend. "Dibble? I'm . I'm scared. Will ya stay with me and make sure she don't try no funny business?"  
  
Dibble turned a questioning look to Iris, who smiled and nodded.  
  
"Sure, Teddy," Dibble said. "Now tell her straight."  
  
"Doctor," Ted swallowed his pride, "Please save me hand. I'm sorry I called ya them names, and I really didn't mean nothin' by it."  
  
"Mister Sandyman, I will do everything in my power to try to save your fingers," Iris said. "Now, this will hurt as I take the bandages away. I'll try to be as gentle as I can, but it won't be easy for you. Scream if you want to. Mister Culver, would you please stand close to Mister Sandyman and hold his good hand? Thank you. Now, let's see how badly these were crushed."  
  
A few curious children were peeking through the Physician's Office window, but their parents retrieved them. "Shoo! Get away from there! Don't you know it's bad manners to stare at someone? And peeking in someone's windows! Well, I never! You know better than that, Bungo! Tulip! Curiosity is most unbecoming a hobbit!"  
  
However, May Bracegirdle could not resist peaking in as well as the children. After all, her reputation as the best source of information in Hobbiton was at stake. "Jamus! Watch the table for a moment." She left her son to mind the family's table while she went into the physician's waiting room to find out what happened. May Bracegirdle had some of the old Tookish curiosity in her.  
  
Meanwhile, Iris was debating. Should she amputate? Should she try to save Ted's fingers? The whole affair reminded her of the same choice she had to make while tending to Ted Wyncot, except this was not as life-threatening. It was not a comfortable feeling. Sandyman's hand was terribly swollen. He was obviously in quite a good bit of pain as he moaned and thrashed while Iris removed the bandages and examined the wounds.  
  
The easiest and least-controversial treatment would be to quickly amputate the three mangled fingers. It was clear that all three suffered crushed bones and tendons. The skin and muscles were the only things holding the fingertips onto the rest of the hand. Amputation would be justified and reasonable. There would be no question as to whether it was the right choice of treatment. No question. Iris could hear the clock in the hallway ticking. Tick. Tock. Too late.  
  
But she might be able to save Ted's fingers if she acted quickly and if the damage to the blood supply was not too extensive. Tick. Tock. Too late? Maybe not. Tick. Tock. Time dribbled away with beat of her heart. Hope for Ted's fingers dribbled away with each second. She had to make up her mind quickly if there was any chance. Tick. Tock. If she amputated, he would hate her, but would understand. If she attempted to rescue the fingers and failed, he would hate her and blame her forever. But. . if she did rescue the fingers and succeeded, Ted would be in her debt forever. Tick. Tock. Not too late to try.  
  
"Mister Sandyman, I've decided to try to save your fingers rather than amputate," Iris calmly stated. She was amazed at how controlled her voice sounded. It was as if someone else was speaking. "There is a good chance you will still loose your fingers, and even if I do save them, they will be useless for work. But I shall try."  
  
Ted nodded grimly at the news. He had thought the doctor would immediately amputate, seeing as how squashed and then swollen his poor hand had become after the accident. But if she was willing to try to save them, then he was willing to try too. "What do I have to do?" he croaked out. Dibble smiled reassuringly and clasped him on the shoulder. Ted Sandyman was not a coward, even if he was not generally liked by the community. Dibble admired his friend's courage.  
  
"I'm going to give you a sedative so that you will not feel the pain while I operate," Iris instructed. She went into the storage closet and retrieved a special herb mixture. "Mister Culver, please stay with Mister Sandyman until I return with the tea." Iris disappeared into the hallway. Dibble was left holding onto his friend's good hand and softly reassuring him.  
  
In a few minutes Iris returned with the sedative. Ted managed to swallow the entire lot without much fuss. Within ten minutes he was asleep, much to Dibble's relief. Iris excused him from witnessing the surgery, but Dibble insisted on remaining.  
  
"I did promise Teddy I would stay," Dibble apologized. "Meanin' no disrespect, Doctor Proudfoot, Mam, but Teddy did ask me to watch, so I'm gonna watch."  
  
"I have no objection as long as you remove yourself into the corner and do not interrupt me, not matter what I do," Iris said. "Is that clear? There will be things I'm going to do which might cause you discomfort, or which you might question. But I will NOT have you interfering with my treatment. Is that perfectly clear Mister Culver?"  
  
"Yes Mam," he gulped as he retreated beside the children's toys in the corner.  
  
Satisfied that she would be left in peace to treat her patient, Iris cleaned the wounded fingers and placed tiny splints on each one. The hand was bandaged and wrapped in a cooling wet towel. That was the easy part. But Iris had noted that the fingertips were turning blue, indicating no blood flow. Ted Sandyman would loose his fingers if she could not restore adequate blood flow to the tips soon. Iris went over to a little aquarium sitting on top one of the counters and used tongs to extract something from it. Something small. Something black. Something wiggling.  
  
"You're not goin' ta use them on him, are ya?" Dibble squeaked, concern darkening his normal tenor voice.  
  
"I warned you about interfering, Mister Culver," Iris growled. The poor hobbit backed up into the corner and shut his lips tightly. "If you do not wish to witness this procedure you may leave." Dibble shook his head and swallowed, but remained with his unconscious friend.  
  
Iris encouraged her tiny helper to latch onto Ted's fingertip. The leech was young, thin and hungry. It readily attached itself to the proffered flesh and began its job of pumping anticoagulant into the patient while sucking blood out. This was the only method of stimulating the flow of blood into the crushed fingers that Iris knew. A couple more leeches were attached to the tips of the other mangled fingers. There was nothing more to be done for Ted except bed rest, checking the leeches to guarantee they didn't take too much blood, and waiting to see if the tiny organic surgeons were able to save his hand.  
  
With the help of Dibble, Iris moved Ted from the Examination and Surgery room and settled him into the Patient's Bedroom for recovery. Iris sent Dibble home with Ted's clothing and asked him to return the next day at about noon, bringing a change of clothes for Ted. Dibble thought about it for a moment, bowed to the doctor, then left. All of this was witnessed by May Bracegirdle, who went out the door with Dibble and straight into the Green Dragon Inn.  
  
Treating Ted Sandyman took up the rest of the morning. Iris suddenly realized she had not had first breakfast, let alone second breakfast or even lunch. Just as she was about to sit down to eat a late lunch, the little doorbells jangled again. It was Sam.  
  
"Iris! Can you come out quick? It's Mister Frodo. He's taken ill from the shoulder wound, just like last March. Can you come out to Bag End?  
  
"Sam, describe what he's doing," Iris asked.  
  
"I found him in the study sitting in the chair beside the fireplace. He's very pale but kind of sweaty too. I can tell he is in pain from that shoulder wound. He's not in his right mind, babblin' on about orcs and seein' things far away, like in Mordor and such. I'm not sure, but I think in his mind he thinks he's still in the tunnels there. Me and Rose can't get him to notice us, and he won't budge from the study. Is there something you can do? Something you can give him?"  
  
"Sam," Iris sighed, "I'm not sure there is anything I can do for Frodo. And I have a patient just out of surgery under sedation in recovery. I can't leave him alone as he is still undergoing a treatment which requires constant attention."  
  
Sam was taken aback. Surely she could see that caring for Mister Frodo was much more important than waiting around for another patient to wake up. "But, but doctor," he stumbled, "Frodo needs you!"  
  
"And so does my other patient. Sam, think carefully. Is Frodo in emanate danger of dying within the next hour?" Iris gently placed her hands on Sam's shoulders. "If you and Rose can take care of him for an hour, I'll arrange for someone to stay with my patient while I come out to Bag End. Can Frodo wait that long?"  
  
Sam frowned, "Well, I guess so," he slowly admitted. He still thought Iris should drop whatever it was she was doing and run back to Bag End with him, but he had to admit that Frodo's life was not in immediate danger. "Is there anything you want me and Rose to do while waiting for you?"  
  
Iris smiled. Sam was such a loyal, steadfast, and rather single-minded friend to Frodo. It was a good thing Frodo had him along during their Quest. Frodo would have never made it without Samwise Gamgee. "Try to get him to lie down, even if it's on the floor in front of the fireplace in the study. If he agrees to lie down, put something under his feet and legs. And really build up that fire. You need to keep him as warm as possible. But if he fights you on this, let him be. At all costs, keep him from going outside. And make sure you stay with him, even if he doesn't recognize you."  
  
"Well, all right then," Sam reluctantly agreed. "But Doc, please be as quick as can be." Sam disappeared at a trot back towards Bag End.  
  
Iris peeked in on Ted, who was quietly snoring while his little helpers voraciously sucked life back into his three fingers. Iris was satisfied that all four of them would spend a quiet afternoon and evening doing their respective jobs without anyone's supervision. But Ted Sandyman would need someone there to watch over him until the sedative wore off. They would also have to keep an eye on the leeches, in case one decided it was full and let go. Uncontrolled bleeding could follow if that happened and no one was there to staunch the unconscious hobbit's wound.  
  
Iris slipped next door to Tandy's Apothecary. She and Tandy had an arrangement whereby one cousin would look out for the other or act as an assistant should the need arise. Iris arranged for Tandy to check up on her patient while she went on the house call to Bag End. Tandy suggested his wife Opal would make a better nurse, as he was occupied with customers and Opal was interested in learning more about the family medical business. Opal said she wasn't squeamish about the leeches and blood, and didn't mind at all. Within a few minutes she joined Iris back in the Patient's Bedroom.  
  
Opal had brought over some embroidery she was working on, since Iris had mentioned she would probably be there with the patient through the afternoon and into the evening. Opal was quite interested in everything Iris told her to do. It was the most exciting thing she had ever been asked to do, outside of marrying Tandy, of course. The young hobbitess had a secret desire to become a midwife or nurse, but had been discouraged from pursuing her interests by her family. She was thrilled to be asked to actually take over a patient's care while the doctor was away. And Tandy was next door if anything unexpected happened.  
  
As Iris prepared her medical kit for the trip to Bag End, Opal made herself comfortable in the rocking chair next to the bed holding the unconscious Sandyman. The embroidery had been sub-contracted by Mistress Chiswell from the Hobbiton Tailors. It was fine needlework on one of her client's custom dresses. Iris was so distracted by worrying about Frodo's condition that she didn't notice the dress. Opal was working on a dark midnight blue paisley print. Iris grabbed her medical bag, extra herbs, and an apple and quickly headed out the door towards Bag End. About 45 minutes had elapsed since Sam left.  
  
Opal moved the rocking chair to a nice, bright area of the room. She was going to need as much light as possible for this embroidery. The design was a nightingale in black thread on the bottom of the dark blue ribbons of the bodice. "What a strange request," she thought. "Black on midnight blue. This is incredibly difficult to see. Nobody's ever going to notice my handiwork. Oh well, it's not for me to question someone else's designs." She hummed to herself as the hallway clock passed the time of day. Tick. Tock. 


	18. Oct 6th continued

Chapter 18 Title: October 6th continued Chapter rating: PG-13 (violence)  
  
"Where is the doctor?" Rose asked as Sam came through the Bag End doorway.  
  
"She's coming," he replied, "as soon as she gets through with another patient. She said she would be here in about an hour. What's he been doing?"  
  
"Not much. He won't let me touch him. He hasn't noticed the tea and water I've brought in. He doesn't recognize me at all now. I think he's reliving something from Mordor. He keeps talking about orcs and a black tower."  
  
"Oh my," Sam muttered. Sam and Rose quietly moved into the study. Frodo was huddled in a corner of the room with his back up against a bookshelf, knees drawn up under his chin. He cradled his left arm, holding onto it with his right hand and rubbing it. The little beige knit comforter which normally lived on the small leather chair near the fireplace had been converted into a make-shift cloak. Frodo had it loosely draped about his shoulders. His breathing was harsh, but steady. He was awake, but seemed to be in another place.  
  
"I would just let him be until the doctor arrives, Sam," Rose cautioned. "I don't think he'll recognize you as being his friend." They agreed to let Frodo stay where he was as long as he didn't seem to be in too much pain. The little domestic group remained in an uncomfortable stand-off for almost an hour: Frodo huddled in the corner; Rose and Sam sitting in chairs by the doorway to the hall.  
  
As the hallway clock chimed three o'clock, Sam noticed silent tears rolling down Frodo's face. It was more than the poor gardener could bear. Sam walked over and squatted down so that he was at eye level with his ill master. "Mister Frodo? Frodo? Can you hear me?" Sam placed his hand on Frodo's knee.  
  
Frodo shivered, looked up, and recoiled slightly. "Stop," he whimpered, "don't, please. I do not have It anymore. I do not know where It is. Please don't hurt me again."  
  
"Frodo?" Sam moved in closer and again tried to touch Frodo. "It's me, your Sam. You're safe now. You're in Bag End. It's over. They're not goin' ta get you no more. I'll see to it. Just let us help."  
  
Frodo looked about wildly and scrambled to his feet as Sam's hand again touched his knee. He lunged to escape from the study, but Rose bolted out of her chair, blocking the doorway. Frodo turned round, knocking over the little desk and causing the tea service to shatter. Frodo was startled at the loud noise and hot tea splashing across his toes, and stumbled directly into Sam's arms. He was trapped! The orcs had him again!  
  
"No! Let go!" Frodo shouted and struggled. The pain in his shoulder was excruciating, but he remembered more pain would come. Like the last time they captured him. He had to escape this time! An orc had his arms pinned against his sides. Frodo kicked the creature, who grunted, but did not release its hold. In desperation, Frodo bit down on the creature's shoulder.  
  
Sam cried out in surprised pain and momentarily relaxed his grip on Frodo. That was all it took. Frodo twisted and managed to escape, only to bump into Rose, who had run over to her husband's side. Frodo grabbed her with his right hand and slung her to the back of the room. Unseen to any of them, Iris had entered the front door unannounced upon hearing the commotion from outside. What she saw truly unnerved her.  
  
As Sam grabbed his wounded arm, Frodo raced to the fireplace and retrieved his sword, Sting, from its display plaque. Rose screamed a warning as she tumbled into a stack of books. Frodo was between her and Sam, waving the bright Elvish blade at his best friend. Frodo's left arm dangled uselessly at his side. Sam feinted, then lunged at Frodo in an attempt to wrest the deadly sword out of his hand, but Frodo viewed this as an attack. He surprisingly sidestepped Sam, circled around and tried to cold-cock Sam with the hilt. He missed, but not by much.  
  
"Back! Back, you foul thing or I swear I'll run you through!" Frodo panted, brandishing Sting in Sam's face. "What have you done with It? Where is the Ring? Where's Sam? Tell me or I swear I shall hurt you."  
  
Sam backed away slightly, palms open and facing Frodo, keeping Frodo's gaze captured with his eyes. "Rose?" he quietly whispered. "Rose? Get out of the room through the back door, then lock it behind ya. Don't make no sudden moves or he'll like as not come after you. Just slowly and very quietly back away. Then run like the wind to me Gaffer's and fetch Hamson ta help me with Mister Frodo." Rose fled.  
  
"Sam," Iris quietly called from behind, "I am right behind you. Remain still and do not move at all."  
  
"If you touch me again I'll geld you," Frodo threaten. "Where is the Ring, you filthy beast?" He continued to glare at Sam, waving Sting menacingly with his right hand. Sam and Frodo were in a deadly dance, eyes locked, each watching the other's body movements, looking for any opening that might give an advantage.  
  
"Frodo?" Iris called, "Where are you?"  
  
A brief look of confusion crossed Frodo's face. He hesitated. The voice sounded familiar, but it did not belong to this place. Without taking his eyes off of Sam, he warily replied, "In the tower."  
  
"What do you see?" Iris continued.  
  
"Orcs. Blood. Whips. Death. Loneliness." Frodo continued to eye Sam.  
  
"Frodo?" Iris again called out, "are you injured?" Frodo nodded, but did not drop his guard. The pain in his shoulder was terrible. He was panting. Water. He needed water!  
  
"Sam," Iris whispered, "sing to him."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Sing to him. The song you sang in the tower of Cirith Ungol," she prompted. "Maybe he will do the same thing he did that time. Sing to him, Sam. He's waiting to hear your voice. Your song is the only thing he'll trust."  
  
"Shining stars and Elves, Iris! I can't remember what I sang!" Sam almost cried in desperation. "I can't think straight."  
  
"Please, Sam," Iris prompted, "then sing anything that pops into your head. But sing, and sing right now!"  
  
Without taking his eyes off Frodo's and without moving, Sam began to sing. His voice has harsh and tight with fear and concern, but it was a song from the heart. A child's lullaby. A song Bilbo had taught him decades ago. Frodo's mouth opened in shock at hearing the notes. Sting trembled in his hand. Tears started to his confused eyes.  
  
"Frodo?" Iris said as Sam continued to sing, "It's Sam. He's come to rescue you. Close your eyes and lay down, love. Sam's here. The orcs are dead. Sam's come for you. Lay down and rest, love."  
  
"Ss.. s.. Sam?" Frodo closed his eyes and let Sting drop with a thud onto the rug. Sam was crying now, but he continued the song of love and gentle sleep. Frodo groaned and sank to his knees, then curled up on the rug in a fetal position, hugging his left arm in to his body. "Sam!" he choked.  
  
The front door flew open as Rose and Hamson rushed in. Iris stayed them with a shushing gesture. Sam stopped singing and retrieved Sting, handing it to his elder brother. Frodo sobbed into the little rag rug in his study at Bag End. But in his mind he was still a tortured prisoner in the towers of Mordor.  
  
"Mister Frodo, sir? It's Samwise," Sam knelt and cradled the shivering body in his arms. "I found you. We can leave now. I'll take you someplace safe and warm. Come on, master. You know we can't stay here."  
  
Sam lifted the crying hobbit in his arms like a father picking up a sleeping child. He carried Frodo into his bedroom. It would be a terribly long afternoon and evening for all of them.  
  
Oooooooooooooooooooooooooo  
  
Ted Sandyman woke up the next day to find the doctor sitting in the rocking chair next to his bed, having tea and checking on the progress of his fingers. His poor fingers. Ted looked down at his injured hand.  
  
"What are those slimy blood-suckers doin' hangin' off me fingers?" Ted yelled. He bolted upright and tried to shake the leeches off, only succeeding in causing himself a tremendous amount of pain. Iris pushed him rather roughly back into the pillows.  
  
"If not for my little medical helpers, I would have had to amputate all three fingers, Mister Sandyman," Iris lectured. "But as it stands, the little darlings have done their jobs. Your fingers are a healthy pink, thanks to the fresh blood the leeches have brought into your hand. But their job is finished now, so I will remove them before you go home."  
  
"What do they eat when they can't get hobbit?" Ted asked. Iris was removing each plump leech and bandaging each fingertip to stop the bleeding.  
  
"Well, I feed them the occasional blood sausage the butcher makes up for me," Iris calmly replied without looking up from her task.  
  
Ted realized he needed to be on the good side of the town physician, no matter what he thought of her medical techniques or social life with that blasted Baggins. In typical Sandyman fashion, he struggled to think of a way to buy his way into her good graces. Maybe if he knew what she enjoyed . "What do you like to do, Miss Proudfoot?"  
  
"Do? You mean for pleasure? Oh, I like the medical gardens, to walk in the flowers amongst the butterflies and songbirds," she replied, making small talk as she bandaged the hand. "I like to take long walks in the woods too, listening to birdcalls and observing the plants growing in the wild. I like to bake, but usually don't have much time to do so. By the way, the prognosis for your hand is good. It looks like I was able to save your fingers. However, I seriously doubt if you will be able to flex them ever again. Let's give it a week or two, then come back and let me take the splints off and get another look. If you experience severe pain, or if the fingertips turn blue or black again, come back immediately. Do not remove those splints. You may go back to work whenever you like. Understood?"  
  
Sandyman had mixed emotions about that. He felt resentful, but grateful all at the same time. He murmured his thanks to the doctor as Dibble walked in carrying a change of clothes for his friend. Iris left the room to gather some herbs to send home with Ted while he changed clothes. Ted was a bit shaky getting out of bed and felt slightly nauseous.  
  
"Steady on Teddy," Dibble smiled and offered his arm to Ted. "Doc said you lost a good bit o' blood and might not be feelin' up to much taday. I brought the mill's pony cart fer the ride back home. We'll take it nice and slow so's to not jar ye none." Ted smiled. "And a brought ya a beer," Dibble whispered and winked. Dibble was a bit of a blockhead, but the two were pals and looked after each other through thick and thin. Within a few minutes they were on their way to Bywater.  
  
The next day Ted Sandyman sent Iris a generous payment for services rendered. Sacks of fine wheat flower, milled barley, milled oats, birdseed, a flask of honeyed water for hummingbirds, and even a caged bird arrived at the Physician's Office. It was a nightingale. 


	19. Nightingale Variations

Chapter 19 Title: Nightingale Variation Chapter rating: PG-13 (angsty)  
  
"October 20th S.R. 1420"  
  
Frodo carefully wrote the date in his journal. He was in his study having fully recovered from his recent illness. Life had become uncomfortably complicated after the afternoon of the 6th. Iris was the one who finally told Frodo the truth of his actions while he was ill. At first Frodo didn't want to believe he was capable of such violence towards his most beloved friends. But it was there. A great, gaping hole inside him. In his heart he knew what he was capable of doing. The Ring had told him as much while he was carrying It. It lied to him frequently, but this was the truth. Iris said he was not to be held responsible for his actions when he was ill, but he couldn't justify it that way to himself. Frodo considered himself a menace to the Shire. He thought he would be able to become healed by returning home, but that was evidently not true.  
  
"I can no longer put this off," he wrote. The sound of the sharpened goose- feather quill scratching on the parchment reminded him of the sound his own fingernails made against the harsh stone walls of Cirith Ungol. He ignore it.  
  
"I have made up my mind to follow in Bilbo's footsteps. Only I do not have the choice of retreating to Rivendale since the Elves are leaving. I shall leave Middle Earth altogether and seek healing in the West, if healing is to be found. If I stay here I am a danger to everyone, but particularly to those I love. Principally to Rose and the children which are on the way. I will not allow my own need for love to blind me to the violence inside. This time next year I shall join Gandalf and the Elves, and shall sail away. I do this voluntarily, to save what I love. I do not know what awaits me on the shores of Tol Eressea, but my hope lies there. Follow me, if you will, when your time comes. Perhaps we shall be reunited there in peace."  
  
Frodo put down the quill and blotted the ink. He would leave his journal behind, as well as the Red Book on the history of the Ring. The Red Book was for the general public. His journal was extremely private - for Sam's eyes only in the years to come.  
  
It was time to talk to Sam about Cirith Ungol. Frodo was reluctant to discuss what had happened with anyone, but since his confession to Iris and his unconscious actions on the 6th, he felt Sam had a right to know. Frodo wanted to get it out in the open so that Sam would be prepared the next time the Morgul blade illness struck.  
  
Frodo could hear the sounds of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Occasionally female laughter drifted into the study. Rose was in the kitchen. She had invited Iris over to help with the week's baking instead of one of Sam's sisters. Rose had recently learned that Iris liked to bake but found it difficult to only bake for one. Frodo, Sam and Rose had persuaded her to set time aside from her thriving medical practice to simply enjoy being with friends for leisurely activities. And now that Opal was apprenticing the doctor, she didn't feel so guilty when leaving the Office for the day. The lasses were making herbed breads and seed cakes, using some of the goods Ted Sandyman had sent over to Iris. Iris had on her new midnight blue paisley dress. Frodo thought she looked ravishing in it. Iris wasn't so sure, but wore it for him anyway. The matching vest had been cancelled, much to her relief.  
  
The rain had temporarily delayed outdoor harvest activities. Consequently, Sam was inside working. Frodo found him in one of the empty inside bedrooms, sanding down some in-built cabinets. Sam was turning the small back room into a play room suitable for a child. At one time the little room must have been used for such a purpose, but throughout Bilbo and Frodo's occupation of Bag End, the room had been used as a general-purpose storage room. Frodo had given Sam permission to convert any room in the spacious smial into any purpose he and Rose desired, saving his own private bedroom and study.  
  
"Sam?" Frodo rapped politely on the lintel and called.  
  
"Hello Frodo," Sam looked up from his work. "Do you need me for something? You look a little troubled, if you don't mind me being so bold." Sam put down the sanding block.  
  
Frodo sighed and entered the room. "It is time you and I had a private talk. If you have a few minutes, that is?"  
  
"Uh, sure," Sam said, wiping the sawdust off his hands and onto his breeches. "You want to talk in here? I mean, it's pretty far back in the smial and away from everything. If we shut the door the lasses won't overhear nothin'."  
  
Frodo smiled and closed the door behind him. Sam somehow always managed to anticipate what he needed. They sat on a couple of little wooden stools in the otherwise-empty room. "Whatever's on your mind, it must be bloody important," Sam said, trying to lighten Frodo's mood.  
  
"I think it is important to us," Frodo replied. "I can not stop thinking about what happened in Mordor, Sam. Especially after the things I did while ill a couple of weeks ago."  
  
"Mister Frodo," Sam interrupted, "you weren't in your right mind. No one holds you responsible for that day. And nobody got hurt. Now, just push it out o' your mind and let's get back to work." Sam stood up, but Frodo waved him back down.  
  
"Sam, people did get hurt," Frodo insisted. "You may have conveniently forgotten, but I know I bit you. Threatened to castrate you with Sting. And I could have caused Rose to miscarry by throwing her across the study. Thank the stars she is fine, but Sam, I am afraid of myself. Afraid of what I carry around inside my head. I never know when it is likely to come out."  
  
"It don't come out unless you're ill," Sam said. "And as far as I know, you're only ill twice a year. We can handle it. Now that we know what to expect, me and the doc and Rose can anticipate it and handle it before it takes ya. You know - like put ya to sleep with those herbs of hers or somethin'."  
  
"It is not that simple, Sam," Frodo said. "Iris said I should talk about things that happened, things that still bother me, and get them released out of my mind. She says that will lessen the severity of my attacks. I am not sure I understand how it works, but I am willing to try if you are willing to listen. Sam, I need someone to talk to, and you are the only one who would understand."  
  
Sam rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head. "Well, Frodo, I don't rightly know if I want to bring up them memories, myself. I mean, I try to forget some things. I don't like the nightmares. And I don't want me Rosie to know some of the things we had to do." Sam looked up at his master, then at the closed door. Frodo just sat there, looking at him. The silence between them was deafening. "All right. I'll try, as long as it stays our secret and Rose never finds out. I can't refuse you nothin' you've set your mind on, and you know it."  
  
Frodo smiled faintly. "The only other person I talk to about this is Iris. As long as you are comfortable knowing that she also is privy to my memories. Is that all right with you?"  
  
Sam nodded. He trusted the doctor to keep secrets. "Might as well start now since you've brung it up and I can tell you're not gonna let it rest. What do ya want to talk about?"  
  
"What happened when I was captured in the tower at Cirith Ungol."  
  
"Sweet stars, Frodo," Sam cleared his tight throat, "you never do anything easy, do ya? Let's not talk about that."  
  
"I need to, Sam," Frodo said, "and so do you, I suspect. Sam - I know it wasn't your fault I was captured. You saved me from more than just the orcs there in that black tower. I was thinking of committing suicide when I heard you singing. I thought I was hallucinating from the .. From .. After they .. After the orcs . After they ." Frodo stared at the floor, clasping his hands together, unconsciously rubbing the stump of his missing finger, suddenly unable to complete the sentence.  
  
"Frodo?" Sam was kneeling at his side. Sam reached out and quieted Frodo's hands in his grip. "After they raped you?"  
  
A tear slid down Frodo's cheek. He couldn't speak, so he nodded.  
  
"I know about that, Mister Frodo," Sam whispered. He was fighting back the tears as well. "I saw what those brutes did with you. I've been kickin' myself for a year now about how slow and stupid I was there in that tower. I left you and I let you down and I can't take it back no matter how hard I try. I'm sorry, Frodo. I'm so sorry I let that happen to you. Please forgive me. Please forgive your Sam." Sam was begging on his knees.  
  
"Sam. Sam," Frodo choked back the tears, "there is nothing to forgive. I would rather have endured ten thousand tortures than have you show up sooner than you did. If you had arrived sooner, you would have been killed or captured along with me, and the Ring would have been taken and our mission would have failed. Some other force was at work that dark day. I hold no grudge against you for being unable to prevent the rape. I am grateful that you found me when you did. And rescued me. And we were reunited. Your singing saved my life. Like a ray of hope in that land of death. You are my hope. You are the true hero of the War. I had lost all hope, but you restored it to me. Your heart never quailed against the evil. You are my rock. Thank you, Sam, for saving me twice now from that torture."  
  
They clung to each other in the small empty room, crying shared tears and shared memories. After a few moments, Sam stood up and wiped his eyes.  
  
"Please Mister Frodo, bury this incident and don't put it into the book," Sam pleaded. "I'm glad it's out in the open and we can put it behind us now. But don't write it into your book. I don't want my children reading stuff like that. I don't want them to go through what we went through, even if it's just in their minds."  
  
"It is important to set down history as it happened," Frodo countered as he wiped his eyes and stood. "But if you write down what you did while I was captured, then I'll only use your actions in the book. We will edit your side of the story together, and I'll let you select what to include in the book. Is that agreeable, Sam?" The two hugged and shook hands on their compromise.  
  
Frodo left and went into his bedroom to wash his tear-stained face. Sam did the same, then returned to the little bedroom. He attacked the shelves with renewed vigor.  
  
The lasses called Frodo and Sam in for dinner - a feast of steak and mushroom pies, glazed carrots and pumpkin, followed by lemon cake with gooseberry preserves. Talk centered around all the goods Ted Sandyman sent to Iris as payment and what his "hidden agenda" could be. Sam teased Iris by saying Ted was obviously trying to court her. Everyone laughed and made up other silly reasons at Ted Sandyman's expense while the dinner dishes were washed and put away.  
  
"We really shouldn't be laughing at poor Teddy Sandyman," Iris said as she dried another plate and handed it to Frodo.  
  
"And why not?" Rose asked. "He certainly doesn't deserve our good will after what he tried to do to you and Sam and Frodo."  
  
"It's just.. Well, I don't think I should be passing on the gossip .." Iris giggled.  
  
"What! Spill it, Iris Proudfoot!" Rose insisted.  
  
"Look, I don't cotton onto gossip, if you please," Sam admonished. "Unless you're certain it's a fact."  
  
"I know it's a fact, Sam," Iris laughed, "since I think one of my young patients is the original cause. I was in the Green Dragon one night having dinner and in walks May Bracegirdle. She's there with a gaggle of her friends and I overheard them:  
  
'Did you hear the news from Bywater? No. Do tell. It's about young Ted Sandyman. The lad that got his fingers caught in the grinding stone? Yes, that's the one. Poor dear. Not having very good luck right now. All his glands are all swollen up. Can't walk or talk or piss without a lot of pain, so they tell me. It won't kill him, mind you. But life is going ta be mighty uncomfortable for him for awhile. Why, that's terrible! Whatever happened? Seems he's somehow caught the mumps. It's a terrible thing to happen to a lad when they're older.'"  
  
Iris snickered. Sam's eyebrows were climbing off his head. Rose stopped washing the dishes and laughed until her sides hurt. Frodo had clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from guffawing, but couldn't stifle a laugh. Finally, even Sam broke down in self-satisfied chuckling.  
  
Sam and Rose settled into the living room for a quiet night of reading and embroidery (respectively). Frodo walked Iris home as the sky turned from rain to a star-filled night.  
  
"I've decided to set the nightingale free," Iris said as they entered into her building through the back door. "It was a nice gesture by Mister Sandyman, but I believe songbirds should not be caged. Would you like to come with me?"  
  
"Certainly. Where are you going to release it?" Frodo asked as they set down the baked goods Rose had sent with them, and picked up the little cloth-draped wooden birdcage. As Frodo removed the cloth, the nightingale chirped then became silent, fluttering around from perch to bar and back to perch.  
  
Iris looked sideways at Frodo with a coy grin on her face. "Beside the banks of the little stream where we made love on the way back from the Wyncots."  
  
Frodo smiled wistfully. "There was a nightingale there that night, if I remember correctly."  
  
"There were two," she said, wrapping her arms about his waist. "One feathered kind who sang for my ears, and one dark-haired hobbit who sang to my heart." She kissed him. He set down the birdcage and kissed her back. She lay her head on his shoulder. He stroked her back, lost in future memories. He would miss her terribly when he was gone. At least he had a year to enjoy her company and love. A year. Only a year. He would need a lifetime to express his love, but he didn't have more than a year.  
  
"Frodo?"  
  
His thoughts were interrupted. "Yes, Iris?"  
  
"Did you ever think of getting married?" She whispered the question into his shoulder.  
  
"Only once, and I do not think she realized my proposal was sincere." He stroked her hair. Her lovely wild curls subdued into a single plat down her back. He loost the ribbon holding her hair, setting the brown tresses free as he combed through the soft locks with his fingers. "I meant it, Iris." He kissed her deeply, hungrily, then pulled back. She was looking into his eyes. They turned sad with regret. "But I cannot make the offer again."  
  
"What keeps you from doing so, love?" she asked. He was hiding something from her, she was certain.  
  
"I cannot keep anything from you, you know," he sighed. "How do you manage to do that to me? What is it about you which drives me senseless? You ask a question and I throw caution to the East wind." He bent down to kiss her lips again, but she interrupted his move by pulling away slightly.  
  
"You haven't answered my question, Frodo Baggins," she admonished. "What makes you think you can't get married?"  
  
He swallowed. "I have to leave," he whispered. "I cannot stay in the Shire much longer."  
  
"Why not? I don't understand."  
  
"Iris," Frodo held her hands, "you saw what happened to me the last time I became ill. I am a danger to those I love. I have to leave." He pulled back from her and looked at the nightingale. "Gandalf and Arwen said I might find healing in the Undying Lands across the Western Seas. I've been given permission to travel there with the Elves when they leave Middle Earth." He turned back to her startled face. "I will not stay and endanger those I love. I will leave next autumn when Gandalf and Lord Elrond come for me. I believe Bilbo will also go with us, if he is still alive. There is no healing for me here in the Shire. I must leave, even if my in-most desire is to remain with you. I cannot stay."  
  
Iris shook her head in frustration, tears welling in her eyes. She walked over to the table and grabbed the birdcage, causing the nightingale to screech in distress. She strode out the back door, across the lawn and into the medical gardens. Frodo followed.  
  
Iris sat down in the shadows under the young willow tree Sam had recently brought in from the North Farthing. She opened the latch and gathered the frightened bird to her bosom, putting the cage aside and stroking the bird into calmness. As Frodo watched, she spread her hands, releasing the songbird into the night. It fluttered away and was not heard from again. 


End file.
